Limerence
by KarmaHope
Summary: Limerence (n): the state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person, typically experienced involuntarily and characterized by a strong desire for reciprocation of one's feelings; Bakugou Katsuki has his life figured out. And then he doesn't. (A study in love, loss, liminality, and the linear passage of time.)
1. Cause she's bittersweet

**Limerence**  
(Pining)

* * *

Bakugou Katsuki can pinpoint the exact Moment he realizes he's fucked.

The stakes have never been higher. They're in their third and final year at UA, facing off in their third and final Sports Festival. This is it – winner takes all, forever the reigning champion of their year. Bets have been flying left and right underneath the teachers' noses, although they would be surprised if the teachers themselves didn'thave their own betting pool running.

This is his last chance to prove to the world that he's standing on the same stage as the up-and-coming hero Deku. This is his last chance to show the world he is not and will never be a villain, despite what the media may think. This is his last chance, his last chance, his last chance …

And suddenly there she is, standing before him like she did two years ago, and suddenly it's his last chance to settle an old score. He would never admit to anyone else that he's been itching for the opportunity to do so since their first year. He would never admit to anyone the magnitude of his disappointment when he didn't get that opportunity last year.

He would never admit to anyone that he's been _paying attention_ ever since.

It's easy to hide, he muses as he stares at her across the ring. She stands with her chin up and her shoulders back, meeting his eyes with the same determination she'd had back then but also with a confidence she hadn't. It's been two years, and his classmates still don't believe he'd take interest in anyone outside his immediate circle and Deku. They're idiots, the lot of them.

"What?" Uraraka asks though an impish grin. She takes a step forward, crosses her arms, and shifts her weight with a cock of her hip. "You're not gonna give me an out this time?"

Katsuki's palms crackle at the challenge. He raises his chin and smiles _that smile_ – so much for showing the world he is not and never will be a villain. But that's the last thing he's thinking about as he replies, "Nah, not this time, Uraraka. I'm not feeling that nice."

She shrugs, and it's easy to see she's _enjoying_ this. His heart skips a beat, but that isn't the Moment. He's just eager to fight.

"So be it," she says.

The buzzer rings, and he braces himself for her charge.

She doesn't move.

Katsuki blinks. He blinks again. He's dumbfounded, and a suspense-filled hush falls over the crowd.

"Well?" Uraraka asks, stretching her arms up above her head with a causal ease. "What are you waiting for? Come at me, bro."

Still, he doesn't move. This is a trick, it has to be. Either she has something hidden up her sleeve, or she's playing very effective mind games with him. But as she brings her hands down to very pointedly examine her nails, it's evident that she won't be the one to make the first move any time soon.

Goddammit, she's already gotten one up on him. A sense of admiration for her washes over him, but this isn't the Moment, either.

He takes a cautious step forward, then another, and soon enough he's hurtling toward her. The distance closes, and still she doesn't move. She meets his eyes and stares him down, daring him to attack her.

So he does.

"DIE!" He lets his quirk loose with a shout, but he's careful to direct the explosion up and away from the ground. _That_ was a mistake he wouldn't make again. He waits to hear her scream, or grunt, or make some noise in acknowledgement that he's hit her, but she's used his caution to her advantage and ducked beneath his blast. He gets a vicious kick in the ribs for his efforts.

They exchange a few blows, each careful to avoid the other's hands. It's a careful dance – a well-practiced one from two years of sparring against each other in classroom exercises. After a few minutes of back and forth, though, Katsuki finally knocks Uraraka far enough away to hit her with another large explosion.

When the smoke clears, there's no one there.

Now, due to the usual laws of physics, when someone disappears in front of him, his first instinct is not generally to look up. He wastes a precious second glancing around before remembering who it is he's dealing with, and by that point it's too late.

Uraraka hurtles down from the sky – _like a falling angel_ , he thinks absently, but no. This still isn't the Moment. She lands just inches behind him, and he whips around with an explosion brewing in his palm with the intent to blast her square in the chest.

She reaches him first.

Five fingertips on his own chest, just over his heart, and suddenly Newton has forsaken him. His hand explodes, and without gravity to keep him grounded, he's a human rocket. He shoots backward, tumbling ass-over-teakettle, and that combined with the zero-g leaves his inner ears helpless. He regains his bearings enough to try to straighten himself out, but he's still not quite used to conducting aerial maneuvers without gravity there to provide some guidance, and he only succeeds in sending himself tumbling off in another direction.

The buzzer sounds, and in that instant gravity welcomes him back into her comforting embrace.

"Aaand the winner is: Uraraka Ochakooooo! Wow, what an upset! Give it up for Uravity, folks!"

From his vantage point on the ground just outside the ring, Katsuki watches Uraraka wave to the rolling crowds as he fights against the nausea roiling in his stomach. His head is spinning – he doesn't want to risk humiliating himself any further by attempting to stand up quite yet. He closes his eyes against the dizziness and rests his forehead on his knees for a moment.

"Hey," a very specific voice says, and he looks up to meet soft brown eyes. "Are you okay?"

His stomach lurches. "Yeah, just fucking peachy," he bites out as he swallows against it. "What the fuck, Uraraka?"

She laughs, and his stomach lurches again for a different reason entirely. "Yeah, you're okay," she agrees. She extends a hand toward him. "Can you walk? Here, I'll help you back."

"I don't need your goddamn help," he growls, but takes it anyway. For how soft she is, her hand is all rough calluses – save, of course, for the cat-paw pads on her fingers that are just as dangerous as any cat's claws.

She grins as she pulls him to his feet, all round-faced and pink-cheeked and fluffy-haired, and _this –_ this is the Moment. Uraraka Ochako may be sickeningly sweet and unassuming most of the time, but she's got steel underneath that soft exterior. This woman just kicked his ass seven ways from Sunday and he's _fucked_.

His stomach lurches one final time, and he celebrates his revelation by just barely avoiding throwing up on the woman he is probably, most likely, most definitely in love with. And, if he's being honest with himself, probably has been for years.

She wins third place, after Deku and Todoroki, and Katsuki _almost_ doesn't care that he's not on the podium.

Almost.

Deku's goddamned smile feels like a 100% One-For-All punch to the gut.

* * *

Months pass, and the excitement of the Sports Festival fades into the blasé of everyday life.

The League of Villains is quiet. Too quiet, but there's nothing they _can_ , or particularly _want_ , to do about it. It's a reprieve that doesn't take them long to settle into, but there's an edge to the ease. They train long, and they train hard. Now that they're third years, it's more their responsibility than ever to keep everyone at UA safe.

Katsuki is grateful for the distraction.

He tries to keep busy, because if he's not busy, his thoughts wander. They wander in the same direction as his gaze, which is forever being pulled – inexplicably – toward Uraraka. Except it's not inexplicable, is it? He knows exactly why he has a hard time looking away, and the more he tries to ignore it, the stronger it makes its presence known.

Her quirk might be the ability to negate gravity, but she's a gravity well in and of herself. He's stuck in her orbit, and in the freefall his heart threatens to fall right out his chest.

When she meets his eyes, she smiles, and his stomach flips. When she challenges him, she smirks, and his heat burns. When she touches him, it's friendly, and it's everything he can do to keep from exploding.

To get a scope of the issue: his first year in the dorms, he hid away in his room to avoid everyone. Last year, he started to tolerate the presence of his classmates. This year, he hides away in his room to avoid _her_.

It's one of the many downsides to living with all your classmates.

But tonight, he can't sleep. He tosses and turns, and every time he gets close, his brain switches to a new topic and he's wide awake again.

Uraraka.  
Deku.  
All Might.

With a grunt of frustration, he sits up and checks the time.

01:37

Katsuki squints against the red glare of the alarm clock. With a heavy sigh, he drops back down onto the bed. It's not like he's slept well since he started at UA, what with the USJ attack and his subsequent kidnapping and everything else that's happened since then. He doesn't think any of his classmates sleep particularly well – sometimes he'll hear the soft rhythmic thud of Eijirou working his punching bag well into the wee hours of the morning.

It's the kind of shit that would have pissed him off once upon a time, but it doesn't now. What does it matter if it keeps him up, if he's not sleeping anyway?

Uraraka.  
Deku.  
All Might.

He'll miss it once they graduate. It's grounding, in its own way – a reminder that he's not alone. Sometimes he wonders if Eijirou does it on purpose. He's never asked, but it's Eijirou, and Katsuki wouldn't put it past him.

It's one of the upsides to living with all your classmates.

He sighs again, presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, and runs his hands back through his hair. Sleep isn't happening right now, that's for sure. With a groan, he pushes himself to his feet, grabs a sweatshirt off the back of his desk chair, and wanders downstairs.

Uraraka.  
Deku.  
All Might.

He doesn't bother turning on the lights – after three years of living in the same building (the 1-A dorms became the 2-A dorms became the 3-A dorms), he knows its layout by heart. Besides, the darkness is warm and comforting, and it's the closest Katsuki will ever get to understanding Tokoyami. When he turns the corner, though, he finds that someone left the TV on before they went to bed. It's muted, but the colors flash, casting the common room in dim relief.

That being said, the refrigerator light is still blinding. He blinks against it, and then proceeds to stare blankly at the refrigerator's contents. He might not be able to sleep, but that doesn't mean his brain is entirely with it beyond the same three thoughts that haunt him.

Uraraka.  
Deku.  
All Might.

At long last, he settles on hot chocolate and pulls the milk from the fridge. He closes the door and is plunged back into the relative blessed darkness, broken only by the flickering of the television. The microwave, at least, is a little dimmer than the fridge. This isn't an unfamiliar routine, so it's not hard to pull the cocoa mix and chili powder from the cupboards as the milk heats up.

The microwave beeps harshly, piercing though the quiet of the night. Katsuki almost cringes, but he knows from three years' experience that no one can hear the microwave beep from the next floor up, except for maybe Jirou and Shouji if they were listening for it.

Uraraka.  
Deku.  
All Might.

A gasp from the couch causes him to jump, and he drops the cocoa and chili powder on the counter.

"Wha? Who's there?" a feminine voice demands. Quietly, to herself, she asks, "And what time is it?"

There are only six girls in class 3-A, and of those six, Katsuki still only knows one like the back of his hand. He freezes. His stomach flips. What is she doing in the common area at – he checks the time on the microwave.

Uraraka.

"The fuck are you doing up at one-fifty two?" he asks, answering both her questions. "You gave me a fucking heart attack."

"Oh, Bakugou," she says easily. She sits up, and Katsuki can only just make out her silhouette against the TV. He averts his eyes. She yawns. "What're you doing?"

"I asked you first, goddammit," he grumbles, adding the cocoa and chili powder to the milk. "But I'm fuckin … making hot chocolate, I guess. Couldn't fucking sleep."

"Story of our lives," Uraraka says through another yawn.

Now, if asked, anyone who knows Katsuki on a surface level would say that he's the most confident motherfucker they know. But the fact is – and he tries very hard to hide this – he's not. And it has never been as painfully obvious as it has been since his realization at the Sports Festival.

How the fuck does he talk to her? How the fuck did he used to talk to her? He doesn't know. If she were anyone else, he'd just tell her to fuck off and that'd be that. But she's not.

He also can't be too nice, for two reasons. The first being that he doesn't entirely know how. The second being that if he was, it'd be suspicious, and he can't risk this secret getting out.

He hasn't even told Eijirou.

So, he cups his hands around his mug and stares straight at the counter in front of him. "I told you my reason, now what's your excuse?"

"Ehh, I was just watching TV and fell asleep," she says with that false cheeriness he's noticed she uses when she's trying to convince someone she's okay. "It's nothing, really. I should be getting to bed."

He shouldn't ask. He's Bakugou Katsuki, and he doesn't give a shit about anyone other than himself and a handful of people. Asking would be suspicious. But … she's included in that handful of people, and has been for a while.

And he doesn't want her to leave.

"Do you want hot chocolate?" he blurts out. "I've got everything right here."

He finally looks over at her, and he can see the surprise on her face. When she doesn't respond for several moments, he bristles. "I'm kidding, of course," he spits. "Go get some sleep in your own fucking bed, Uraraka, and stop bothering me."

"What? No! No, I – I'm sorry. I'd really like that, Bakugou, if you're still offering." She trips over her words, and his name spilling from her lips sends a chill down his spine that his sweatshirt can't ward off.

Katsuki crosses his arms over his chest and leans sideways against the counter, staring her down. "It's only an offer if you tell me what's fucking wrong," he says.

Her silhouette straightens in front of the TV. "Only if you tell me what's wrong with you."

Uraraka.  
Deku.  
All Might.

Fuck, she really had to turn this back around on him, didn't she? If he caves, then it's as good as admitting to her that he wants her there. That he wants to spend time with her. He should hit her with a "Fuck no," and get the hell out of dodge. He opens his mouth to do exactly that, but what comes out is:

"Fucking, fine. Whatever. Spicy or weenie?"

Even in this dark, he can tell that she grins, and his stomach flips again. "About half-weenie, half-spicy."

Goddammit.

Silence falls between them as he makes another mug of hot chocolate. He puts the stuff away, then carries both mugs over to the couch. He hands Uraraka hers, then sits on the opposite end of the couch she's on – as far away as possible.

"Start talking."

Uraraka sighs. "It's so stupid, really," she says, staring down into her mug. The light from the TV flickers across her features, and Katsuki is foolishly, stupidly, moronically entranced. "You're gonna think less of me for it."

"Yeah, probably," he says, not quite honestly but not quite _dis_ honestly, either. "But if you don't tell me I'm just gonna take that fucking mug back and go."

She rolls her eyes and clutches the mug tighter, blowing on it gently before taking a sip. She's so goddamn adorable, and he hates it. Her eyes drift to the television. He follows her gaze.

The news channel is replaying the highlights of the day. There had been a minor villain attack that morning, but it was quickly resolved by Mirko and her intern. Deku's face flashes on the screen before them, his smile sheepish yet proud as he says something to the reporter. Uraraka sighs.

Deku.

"I'm really happy for him and Todoroki," she says, "but it's … really hard seeing them together all the time." She mumbles her confession into her mug, as if it will catch her words and keep them from spilling any father.

Something snaps in Katsuki's chest, and suddenly he can't breathe. His palms crackle against his own mug. It's only by virtue of his own resolution that he doesn't blast it across the room and into the TV – into Deku's smug-ass little face.

How does he do it? How does the fucking nerd continue to steal everything that Katsuki ever wanted away from him without even _trying?_ Without even _realizing?_

"It's so _dumb,_ " Uraraka continues, shrinking into herself in the face of his silence. "It was my decision not to say anything to him about my feelings, especially once I realized Todoroki liked him as well. I practically pushed them together! So why does this still _suck?_ "

Katsuki bites back his anger. Bites back his jealousy. Bites back every negative emotion he feels roiling beneath his skin. "Are you … asking me?" he manages to say.

Only now does Uraraka look over at him. She shrugs half-heartedly. "I guess? I'm not really expecting an answer, or anything." She laughs, but it's pitiful. "I know who I'm talking to."

He takes a gulp of his hot chocolate, and it burns all the way down. Does she really think that little of him? He answers his own question. Yeah, she does, because that's the way he wanted it to be.

"Well, why didn't you say anything to him?"

It's a question he's not sure he really wants to know the answer to, but it's past his lips so there's nothing he can do about it at this point.

She shrugs again, and it's starting to annoy him now. "I wanted to focus on getting through school and becoming the best hero I could be. My feelings were a distraction, and it was a distraction I didn't need to put on him as well. Besides –" she stares wistfully back at the TV – "he's so focused on his hero work, and as admirable as that is, I knew I would've always come second. And I didn't want that. I _don't_ want that."

Something swells in Katsuki's chest at her criticism, albeit mild, of Deku. "And what about fuckin' Half n' Half? He's settling for coming second, then? Like dear old dad?"

Uraraka reaches out and slaps him lightly, and his heartrate skyrockets. "Don't be mean," she scolds gently. "But to answer your question, I think Todoroki is more suited to standing equally beside him than I would've been? I don't know. It's hard to explain. He just … makes me feel inferior, sometimes, without even trying. And that wouldn't make for a healthy relationship, y'know?"

He does know. He knows all too well – well enough that he's stunned into silence. How? How does she _do_ it? How did she just put into words the feelings he's been struggling with for years?

"Yeah," he croaks. "Yeah, I do know. I – that's what – that's how –"

Realization dawns across her face at his stilted non-sentence. "That's how you've felt about him, too," she says, so gentle that he's torn between snapping at her and crying. He swallows hard and does neither.

"I've tried to come to terms with the fact that he's just fucking _better_ than me. He's always been a better person, and I fucking hated it. But now he's a better hero, too, with a better quirk than mine! And it's been years, but it's still hard, standing in his goddamn shadow."

In the morning, he'll justify it by the fact that it was late. But right now, it feels _good_ to get everything off his chest – everything he's been hiding because he _knows_ it's not okay, and he's supposed to be _over_ this. He's supposed to be _better_ than this.

But she's soft, and he's sharp, and she's strong, and he's weak.

"In every fucking exposé that they've done on our class since freshman year, I'm always 'Deku's childhood friend.' He's never 'Bakugou's childhood friend.' And that's just how it's gonna fuckin be for the rest of our lives," he spits.

To her credit, she doesn't say anything. She just gazes at him with those large doe-eyes of hers, and Katsuki is grateful for the fact the darkness hides the blush rising on his cheeks.

He hesitates. He hasn't told anyone about this next part yet, but … if there's anyone that he'd want to know first, it'd be her.

All Might.

It's his turn to sigh. "All Might pulled me into his office after class a couple days ago. He … he told me that every year, UA sponsors a couple graduates to go to America. I guess they have a partnership with one of the universities over there. It's actually the same program he went through, fuckin' … forever ago."

Uraraka scrunches her nose. "He's not _that_ old," she protests.

"He might as well be," Katsuki grumbles, but there's no heat in it. "But anyway. They wanted him to nominate students for the program, and … he nominated me. And Half n' Half."

She gasps. "That's amazing, Bakugou! Did you accept?"

"Of course I fuckin' did." He snorts, then settles back into something more serious. "But I fucking asked him, straight to his face, why he picked me over Deku. And he said it was so that I could go be my own person for a while, so that I could get out from under Deku's shadow."

All Might had leveled the playing field by giving Deku his fucking quirk, but now he's doing so again by giving this opportunity to Katsuki.

Uraraka hums thoughtfully. "That's probably why he chose Todoroki, too. So that he could be his own hero without constantly being compared to Endeavor."

"Like I fucking care."

She laughs, and his heart soars as he yawns. He's truly exhausted now – he doesn't know how people can talk about _emotions_ on a regular basis. It's awful.

"I'm really happy for you, Bakugou! That's awesome! You'll have to tell us aaallll about America!"

"Yeah." He shrugs. "Of course. But I think I'm gonna go back to bed now, it's fucking late."

He pushes himself from the couch and motions to take Uraraka's empty mug, which she hands over. He considers leaving them both in the sink, but he doesn't want people to wonder. He'll take them back up to his room and wash them in the morning.

"Goodnight, Bakugou," Uraraka calls after him.

"'Night." He gives her and offhanded wave, and then he's gone.

Fuck.

The only downside to All Might's offer?

The fact that he's moving out of the country after graduation is even more reason to never tell Uraraka how he feels about her. But maybe that's actually an upside.

All he knows is that his heart hurts and he just wants it to _stop_.

He doesn't think it'll stop any time soon.

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _I'm super psyched to be back in the swing of writing and posting my first bnha fic. If you want to talk to me, you can find me on tumblr at the url karmahope!_


	2. She knocks me off of my feet

**Limerence**  
(Fall)

* * *

More time passes, as it's apt to do. The sticky somnolence of summer fades into the cool crispness of autumn, and the world itself heaves a sigh of relief.

It's frighteningly appropriate. Autumn is a season of transience, the liminal space between summer and winter, and Katsuki too feels as though trapped in a state of flux. If asked, he couldn't put a finger on what it is that doesn't sit quite with him. He's still at UA, so he's not stuck between UA and America quite yet. His resolve remains strong and unbroken, and yet …

And yet.

And yet something slipped into place that night, the hot August night he spilled part of his soul to Uraraka as they bathed in the washed-out light of the TV. Part of his soul, but not all, as there were – and still are – things that he can never – and will never – tell her.

His feelings are a distraction, after all, and they're a distraction he doesn't need to put on her as well.

But that doesn't change the fact that things have changed between them. At least, hyperaware of her as he is, he thinks they have. He's sure they have.

She pairs up with him for partner work just as often as she does Iida nowadays, be it for academics or training exercises. She sometimes sits with him and Eijirou at lunch. Her eyes seek his when they're all hanging out in the common area of the dorms, and she's always there with a quick rejoinder to his remarks.

He suspects she's been using him as a crutch since losing Deku to Half n' Half. He has to admit, it's convenient – after all, there's no one else Deku is _less_ likely to be around. It pisses him off, but he doesn't really mind it. It's a contradiction in and of itself, but how can he bring himself to care when it means she's paying attention to him? She's paying attention to _him_ , and he basks in the attention in a way he probably shouldn't.

But he's Bakugou Katsuki, and no one tells him what he should and should not do – least of all himself.

"Bakugou, did you get those reports turned in? If not, you should get that done soon."

Katsuki looks up from his desk to see Edgeshot's secretary, Barricade, looking down at him. He glances back at his computer with its word document pulled up to the front. Right, he had been working on the write-up of his latest villain encounter before he had gotten lost in thought.

"I'm almost done," he growls, hitting a few keys forcefully. "I'll have them done in an hour, at the latest."

"Awesome. Thank you!" the woman chirps, and Katsuki grits his teeth. It's been a long day already, what with school and all, and he's not in the mood to deal with the woman's cheeriness.

She walks away, and he types out a sentence with a sigh. He knows that documentation and paperwork is an important part of hero work, and that means he'll write the best reports out of everyone here, but he hates it. There is absolutely nothing more tedious than paperwork.

Clackity-clack clack clack.

His phone buzzes against his leg, and it pulls his attention away from the reports again. He glances up to make sure Barricade has truly moved on before pulling it from his pocket. It's not that they're not allowed to use their phones during work, but he _did_ just promise to have the reports done in an hour.

… They can wait another few seconds.

Katsuki's heart threatens to leap out of his throat when he sees it's Uraraka who texted him, even though that's something they do now. Apparently. It's been months, and it's still weird – until now, the only people he had texted on a regular basis were Eijirou and his dad. But Uraraka had gotten his number from Eijirou shortly after That Night, and opened with some bullshit about how if he was gonna tell her about America, he'd have to get used to texting.

He didn't, and still doesn't, have the heart to tell her that he's really not planning on keeping touch with _anyone_ once he leaves, save for maybe Eijirou. He won't be able to move on while he's still tied to the past, and that's the whole point of going to America in the first place.

But he's greedy and selfish and he'll take what he can get, so he continues to text her like there could actually be something between them.

 _Of course you didn't have trouble with it,_ the text reads, _you're you._

You're you.

You're you.

She's only talking about the English test they'd had in Present Mic's class that morning, but his mind fixates on those two words. 'You're you.' He's dying to ask what she means by it.

He doesn't.

 _I'm sure you did just fine_ , he replies instead. _Now fuck off, I have to finish this report in an hour._

Her reply is instantaneous. _Good luck!_

Distantly, Katsuki wonders what she's doing with Thirteen today. Is she also stuck in the doldrums of paperwork? Or is she having more fun than he is? He wants to ask, but he does still have _some_ semblance of self-control.

So instead, he rolls his eyes and shoves his phone back into his pocket at the same time he shoves his heart back into its designated spot in his chest. Speaking of self-control, he really needs to get all … _this_ under control before it gets somebody killed.

Namely, himself.

But that's neither here nor there, and he quietly resigns himself to a dull afternoon of paper-pushing.

* * *

The grass is always greener on the other side.

In the midst of the battlefield, Katsuki almost _misses_ the paperwork. Almost. The adrenaline rushing through his veins and his quirk pulsing through his hands is a heady feeling he wouldn't trade for the world, but at least when he's doing paperwork he doesn't have to worry about his fuck-ass friends getting hurt.

"Ground Zero!" Uraraka's voice rings though his earpiece. "Behind you!"

He whirls around, an explosion already crackling in his palm. It catches the villain in his dumbfuck face, blasting him clear down the road. The villain struggles to push himself up, but collapses back onto the abused concrete and doesn't move.

Katsuki looks up, squinting at Uraraka's figure silhouetted against the sun. The small jets on her gauntlets and boots fire occasionally, keeping her stabilized. He grins at her, tosses her a jaunty salute in thanks, and bounds off to formally subdue the villain before he can get distracted.

He looks back at her once he has the cuffs on the guy. She settles atop of one of the nearby high-rises and releases her quirk, granting herself a brief reprieve as she watches the fights in the streets. She's beautiful, up there on the roof. No, that's not the right word. Majestic, perhaps. She watches over the fight in the streets like she's their guardian angel, untouchable and peerless, and yet …

… and yet he knows she's frustrated to all hell about not being down there with them.

He rips his gaze away. Truth be told, Katsuki isn't even a hundred percent sure about _what's_ going on. Edgeshot's agency got a call a few hours ago about a large-scale villain attack, and here they are. From what he overheard Edgeshot and some of the other pros saying, even _they're_ not entirely sure what the purpose of this attack is.

But either way, it's their job to stop it.

"Ground Zero," Edgeshot says, materializing next to him. "You're with me. Come."

Katsuki hands the subdued villain off to the authorities, then makes to follow the pro. "What's the situation?" he asks. "Do we know anything else yet?"

"Their goal appears to be to create as much chaos as possible," Edgeshot replies. "We have reason to suspect that they are just a distraction, and we're working to ascertain what the true threat is."

"Ten thousand yen says it's the League," Katsuki growls. His palms crackle at the thought. "They've been too fucking quiet."

"Be still," Edgeshot chides him gently. "You are not the first to suggest the possibility, and I would not bet against you."

Katsuki bridles against the reprimand, one that he's heard far too often in the two years he's been interning with the Ninja Hero. "So what are we still doing hanging around here?" he demands.

Edgeshot shoots him a level look. "Our assignment has not changed. We are to protect Nabu City – Endeavor, Hawks, and Mirko are looking into the League of Villains."

Of _course_ Deku would get to go after the League while he's stuck here on cleanup duty. But hero work is hero work, he tries to tell himself. What he's doing is just as important as what Deku is doing.

It doesn't help.

"We've got movement," Uraraka's voice breaks into his ear again. Edgeshot pauses as well, so she must be on the wideband channel that broadcasts to all the heroes in the area. She names a street a couple blocks over. "Two villains, one woman and one man. The man appears to be elastic and the woman looks like she starts earthquakes when she steps. There are a few civilians in the area – I'll be on standby to help get them out."

"Copy, Uravity," Katsuki hears Edgeshot reply, although it doesn't come through his earpiece. "We've got it. You're our eyes in the sky now that we've lost Hawks – keep up the good work."

Katsuki sees her nod up in the distance. "Edgeshot and Ground Zero have it covered," she states over the wideband.

Edgeshot turns to him. "Well," he says, "you heard her. Let's go."

Katsuki doesn't need to be told twice. He's off like a rocket, and Edgeshot zips along beside him. Together, it doesn't take them long to reach the street where the villains are.

Two years ago, he would have rushed in without taking more than a moment's heed of the situation. In his time with Edgeshot, he has learned to take a little longer and analyze the scene before him. What he loses in time, Edgeshot had told him once, he makes up for in lack of stupid mistakes.

Katsuki takes this advice with a grain of salt, but that's neither here nor there.

Uraraka was right. One man is indeed extremely bendy, and one woman causes the ground to shake with every step she takes. She stomps hard, and rubble begins to fall from the buildings around them. The civilians cower, and Katsuki knows that Earthquake Bitch is their first priority.

"I've got Earthquake," he growls. "You get Bendy Straw."

He's insubordinate: an intern – not even a sidekick – doesn't usually give orders to a pro. But he's worked with Edgeshot for two years, and they know each other pretty well by now. When Edgeshot doesn't countermand him, he knows he's been given the green light.

"Keep your wits about you," Edgeshot warns him, and then he's gone. Bendy Straw yells out in pain, and that's Katsuki's cue.

He needs to get Earthquake's feet off the ground.

"Hey! Earthquake Bitch!" he cries out as he blasts himself down the street. "Eyes on me!"

That pulls her attention away from the civilians cowering before her, and they scramble away. One limps slightly, like he sprained his ankle.

"Uravity, three civvies heading your way. Uninjured save for an ankle, the fucker."

"Copy," Uraraka replies. "Prepare for extraction."

He sees her floating in his peripheral vision, but he keeps his gaze locked on Earthquake Bitch. She opens her mouth to say something, but he never finds out what. He isn't here to talk. He's here to _win_.

And save, but mostly win.

She stomps her foot, but he's already off the ground. He shoots toward her with a shout of "DIE," a habit he never really broke. Explosions brew in his palms, but she's too quick. She ducks, and his blast shoots harmlessly over her shoulder.

She counters with a punch of her own, and that's when Katsuki realizes her quirk isn't Earthquake, it's Shockwave, and her feet aren't the only epicenters he's got to watch out for.

The hit rattles his bones and bruises his brain. He can feel a headache brewing, and he wouldn't be surprised if she'd just given him a mild concussion. No matter – he's suffered worse.

"You bitch!" he screams, "I'll end you!"

She grins. "I'd like to see you try."

He doesn't have time to recoup – Uraraka drops down into the street away from the fight, laying her hands on every civilian who crowds around her. He doesn't know what the goal of these villains is. Are they just here to create a harmless distraction for the League? Are they here to sow as much death and destruction as possible in the process? He doesn't know, and he can't find out.

The next few minutes are an interesting back-and-forth of blows between two people who cannot let the other's hands touch them at all costs. Katsuki lands a few hits, but Earthquake Bitch does too. On the Richter scale of headaches, his is at least a 5.0 and climbing.

On the edge of his consciousness, he's aware that Edgeshot has long since subdued Bendy Straw. Uraraka has lifted the civilians up and out of harm's reach. Distantly, he hears the fighting going on elsewhere in the city. He knows that Eijirou is out in this mess, and he's sure that most of their class is as well. They're spread thin – this distraction was definitely a 'quantity over quality' type of gig.

At long last, he deals a finishing blow and knocks Earthquake Bitch out cold. Hopefully she'll have a headache as bad as his when she wakes. Katsuki tries to ignore the embarrassment he feels at having taken so long to defeat her, but it's difficult. The street is nothing more than rocks and rubble, a consequence of both her shockwave quirk and his own explosions.

Uraraka has moved on – after all, she's serving the entirety of Nabu City now that Hawks is gone. Katsuki feels her loss acutely, but he shoves it down and buries it beneath his desire to defeat these villain fuckers.

"Let's go see what else we can do to help," Edgeshot says. And they do.

* * *

The fight lasts all day. When they defeat one wave of villains, another is hot on their heels. Most of them aren't particularly strong, but they're numerous. Katsuki finds himself separated from Edgeshot not long after they leave Bendy Straw and Earthquake Bitch, but that's just the way things are. He bounces between hero teams, fighting alongside Eijirou at one point, then Glasses, then Frog Girl and Acid Breath. He's sure there were a few more of his classmates that he saw, but it's all starting to blur together. All he knows is that he ends up back with Eijirou at some point, and together they take down Knife Hands McGee.

The whole time, Uraraka either floats overhead or perches on nearby rooftops to keep a birds-eye view on things now that they've lost their bird. She alerts them to several ambushes. She pulls civilians out of the way. She's thrown up at least once that he's been witness to, and he's sure that it wasn't the first time or the last time. But she works through it, refusing to let it slow her down.

She's going to be all over the news tomorrow, if she hasn't already been today. Katsuki wouldn't know – he's been out in the field all day. She deserves it – deserves to have her face plastered up on the TV like Deku's had been that one night.

His own palms are burnt and blistered to all hell from overuse of his quirk. The veins in his arms are throbbing, and he lost his grenadier gauntlets hours ago. He did stop to pop a couple painkillers for his headache, but if they helped at all, it wasn't enough to do him any good. The throbbing has turned to a sharp, splitting pain, but he still can't stop.

"I think this might be it, boys and girls," Uraraka attempts to chirp through his earpiece, dragging him from his thoughts. She only succeeds in sounding as strained and exhausted as the rest of them. "I'm not seeing any new villains crawling out of the woodwork, and given the pattern up until now, it's been long enough that I should be seeing them. Finish up here, and we can call it a day."

Beside him, Eijirou cheers. Uraraka's laugh comes through the wideband, and Katsuki realizes she's hearing more than just Eijirou. His heart lifts at the sound, and he looks up to find her. She floats high overhead a block over. She's been their guardian angel throughout this fight; a savior, and – he suspects – a much-needed morale booster. Almost a mascot of sorts, but 'mascot' sounds too shallow. She's so much more than that. A figurehead, perhaps.

They let their guard down too soon.

Katsuki doesn't see who does it. He doesn't know which villain it is, or who's supposed to be watching said villain. All he sees is the rubble arcing through the air at a ridiculous speed, its aim good and true. Distracted as she is, she doesn't see it until it's far too late.

"Uraraka!" rips from someone's throat. Distantly, he realizes it's his own.

She looks down at the cry. _Down_ , not _back_ , like she should have, and it's his own damn fault. He should have been clearer with his warning, but he wasn't thinking in his panic. Now, there's nothing he can do but look on in horror as the rubble connects with the back of her head.

There's nothing he can do but look on in horror as she loses consciousness. As she loses control of her quirk. As gravity pulls her wayward child back into her embrace and Uraraka begins the plummet toward the cold, hard, unforgiving Earth.

"Bakugou, go!" Eijirou shouts, giving him a push. "Go, GO!"

There's a desperate note in his voice that matches Katsuki's own, and it shakes him from his stupor. He takes off a split second later – his burnt, blistered, bare palms be damned. All that matters is her. She's all that matters. Always has been.

His heart plummets with her, dead-set on making a nest for itself somewhere deep within the pit that's opening up in his stomach.

A little more, a little more.

Above and beyond.

Plus. Fucking. Ultra.

But as much as the cold sweat he's broken into and his subsequently clammy palms aid his quirk, it's not enough. Bloodied fingertips brush over padded pink ones, leaving sanguine streaks in their wake, but it's not enough. She's too far … too far … too far too far toofartoofartoofar and it's not enough and he's

Out.

Of.

Time.

He needs one more blast. One more blast, and he can get close enough to wrap his arms around her and wrench them around so that at least he'll hit the ground first. But when he calls his quirk up again … all he gets is a crack and a sputter and a wisp of smoke and his hear s.

He's failed.

Fuck … fuck … fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck –

He hears the rev of an engine and the rhythmic pounding of footsteps, but then he hits and all he knows is the pain pain PAIN that follows failure –

And then the blessed darkness takes it away.


	3. And I can't help myself

**Limerence**  
(Confrontation)

* * *

His head throbs.

It's the first thing he's aware of as he claws his way back to consciousness. It's not the piercing agony he'd suffered in the latter half of the fight, but it's a pulsing, throbbing _ache_ that's unbearably uncomfortable.

But pain means that he's alive, at the very least.

His eyelids are heavy, and opening them is another fight all on its own. He catches a glimpse of sterile white walls and curtains before they resist his will and slip closed again. He takes a breath and tries again. He tries again. He tries again.

At last, he gains the upper hand and reduces the amount of time his eyes are closed down to mere blinks. He winces against the pain in his head as he pushes himself up, and takes a moment to figure out where he is.

"You're at UA, son," a voice says to his right. He snaps his head around to see who it is, gritting his teeth against a stab of pain as his brain protests. His father sits beside his bed. He holds a book in his hands, but it hangs forgotten as he directs his concerned gaze toward Katsuki.

Katsuki blinks through the fog as he tries to process what's happening.

"That was one hell of a fall, Katsuki. Your mother nearly ripped her hair out – you're lucky you're not hurt any worse than you were."

Something finally clicks. "Uraraka –"

"The girl you tried to save, right?" his father says. "She's going to be okay. I knew you'd want to know, so I talked to Recovery Girl. In addition to her injuries, she was dehydrated and hypoglycemic, so Porisu Masa Hospital is keeping her overnight on an IV just to be safe.

Katsuki nods, and immediately regrets it. "Her quirk –" his voice is scratchy. He coughs and tries again. "Her quirk makes her throw up if she pushes herself. She was using it all fucking day."

A wave of anger washes over him. What was she _thinking?_ He and the others had at least stopped for the occasional protein bar throughout the day – had she not eaten _anything_ since the fight started?

Of course not – she would've just puked it back up again. The _idiot_. Did she think she had something to prove? Because she didn't. Doesn't.

And he's a hypocrite.

His father doesn't even try to reprimand him for language. Instead, he hands over the water bottle he had by his feet. Katsuki snatches it and drinks gratefully.

Ooh. His palms are _definitely_ still tender. Yikes.

"Take it easy," his father says, and Katsuki resists the urge to flip him off. He wouldn't hesitate if it were his mother, but his relationship with his father has always been slightly less antagonistic.

"Was this all Recovery Girl could do?" Katsuki asks when he lowers the water bottle, looking at his reddened, tender palms.

His father raises his eyebrows. "She had to tend to almost all of your classmates, and a couple kids from the years below you. Be grateful she did what she could."

Katsuki just grunts in response.

The man smiles, shakes his head, and sighs as he pushes himself to his feet. "Get some rest, champ, it's late. I've gotta get back to your mother and let her know you're doing alright. I insisted she stay home because we both know her bedside manner is … less than stellar." He ruffles Katsuki's hair, and Katsuki pouts as he restrains himself from batting his father's hand away.

"Yeah, yeah. Tell the old hag I'll come visit when I get the chance."

"Love you, kid. Try not to be so reckless in the future."

"I can't promise anything."

"I know."

And then his father is gone. Katsuki groans as he leans back onto the pillows again. His head is still throbbing and the room is spinning and he _knows_ that Recovery Girl will probably be in soon to check on him and whoever else is there in the room with him, but it wouldn't … kill him … to close his eyes for a little bit again, right?

It actually doesn't matter, because that's what's going to happen anyway. He sighs and slips peacefully back into steady unconsciousness.

* * *

He wakes to the sun streaming in through the windows of the infirmary the next morning. This time, it's easier. His sleep-crusted eyes open readily, and there's only a whisper of a headache tickling his brain. He squints against the harshness of the day. His mouth is dry and dusty, and he grabs at the water bottle he left on the bedside table the night before.

"Here, dude."

Katsuki looks up to see Eijirou offering him the water bottle. He's dressed in casual clothes, and his hair is down around his shoulders. That's odd. Wasn't yesterday … Tuesday? So today would be Wednesday. Shouldn't Eijirou be wearing his uniform?

"Nedzu gave the day off to everyone who was involved in the fight yesterday," Eijirou says, seeing the consternation on Katsuki's face. "That's everyone in our year and about half of the second years."

"Ah," Katsuki says, grabbing the water bottle. He takes a gulp and instantly feels a hundred times better. "What time is it, anyway?"

"It's like half past noon, bro. Recovery Girl said you needed to sleep it off, and nobody had the heart to wake you. That was one hell of fall you took!"

"Fuck off, that's exactly what my old man said last night," Katsuki grumbles. He stares down at the water bottle clasped in his hands. The curvature of the bottle and the water inside distorts his fingers, and it fascinates him. At least, he pretends it does.

One hell of a fall.

One hell of a fail.

He wants to ask about Uraraka, but …

But.

This is Eijirou. This is the best friend he's ever had, the man who can read him like an open book. He knows that if he opens his goddamn mouth, Eijirou will _know_. Eijirou will know, and that's not something he's ready for. His feelings for Uraraka are a secret shared with only himself, and he doesn't _want_ anyone else to know. Not when it doesn't _fucking_ matter.

He's … ashamed of himself. Not of her – never of her – but of his own goddamn self.

Hell. How can he call himself a hero, when he couldn't even protect her?

"The others came back to the dorm earlier this morning, but as I said, we didn't have the heart to wake you," Eijirou continues, ignorant of Katsuki's inner turmoil. "Uraraka isn't back yet, but Tsuyu says she'll be back later this afternoon."

"That's. Good." Katsuki cringes a little bit at his own words. Could he be any more obvious? "What … happened, anyway? It all went so fucking fast there at the end."

Eijirou lights up. "Dude, it was like something straight out of a movie! I heard from Ojirou that one of the villains broke free from Ryukyu – I mean, he didn't _really_ break free but he got an arm free and that's all he needed because he had a throwing quirk. He scooped a piece of rubble off the street and threw it at the most obvious target, which was Uraraka. Then she went _down_ and you yelled – dude, your voice _cracked_ – and I told you to go because you had the best chance of saving her but!"

He pauses to take a breath, and Katsuki holds the water bottle out to him. He shakes his head, and plunges on.

"But like, after a couple blasts you were just totally at your limit, and suddenly there was only smoke coming from your palms and no explosions and you were just a _little_ too far away from her to break her fall. I didn't actually see this bit, but apparently Iida made it just in time – not to catch you guys, unfortunately, but he baseball slid beneath you and broke your fall just enough that it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been."

So that _was_ Iida that he'd heard before he blacked out. Goddamn, why did Glasses have to go and upstage him?

Except his heart isn't in his anger. If Glasses hadn't been there, things would have been a hell of a lot worse for both him and Uraraka. There are … some things that are important than his pride.

"He was actually here last night," Eijirou said. "I guess you guys landing on him broke a couple ribs, and Recovery Girl was spread too thin last night to really fix him up. I think Jirou was here too."

Katsuki shrugs a shoulder. "Like I give a shit. They're not here now."

Eijirou laughs. "Sure, Katsuki."

Silence falls between them, and Katsuki feels himself getting antsy. Does he have to wait for Recovery Girl to come back and clear him before he leaves? Because if so, fuck that.

"Come on," he says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I've had enough of this place. Let's get out of here."

"Katsuki, wait," Eijirou says, stopping him in his tracks. Katsuki pauses, perched on the edge of the bed, and glares up at him.

"What?"

"It's … about Uraraka."

Katsuki's heart leaps into his throat and threatens to choke him. "What is it?" he demands, "Is she okay?"

"Y-yeah," Eijirou says with a nervous grin. "She's fine. I just –"

His eyes skirt away, and Katsuki loses his patience. "Just spit it out."

"You like her, don't you." It's not a question.

God. Fucking. _Dammit_.

What should he say? What _can_ he say? He can't just say no – y'know, like a liar. Eijirou already has him pegged; besides, Uraraka deserves better than that. Deserves better than _him_.

The truth hangs heavy between them, and Katsuki sighs.

"How?" he demands.

Eijirou shrugs. "I didn't know for sure until yesterday, but you've been calling Uraraka by her name since we were first years, and the only other person you call by name is me. And she's been hanging out with us more in the past few months, and … I dunno how to describe it, dude, but you're just … softer? When she's around?"

"Softer? What kind of bull fuckin' shit –?"

"I know!" Eijirou cuts him off. "I know it sounds silly. But I also know you've been texting her since she got your number from me and you've been smiling at your phone while we hang out, and you're not texting me because I'm _there_ and you're never _that_ happy to be texting your dad."

Katsuki doesn't try to argue. He knows Eijirou's right. He had tried to be subtle, but apparently he'd failed miserably.

"And then yesterday," Eijirou pushes on, "you called her name when she was in danger – her real name, not her hero name – and your voice _cracked_ , bro. I've never seen you that blatantly worried about anyone – you usually hide it beneath your bluster and sarcasm and whatever."

Wow. Katsuki isn't sure how he feels about getting stripped down and peeled open. Actually no, he is sure. He hates it.

"And what does it fucking matter?" he demands, glaring at Eijirou. If looks could kill, the other man would be dead a hundred times over. "Why couldn't you leave it the hell alone?"

" _Well,_ " Eijirou says bashfully, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. He doesn't quite meet Katsuki's eyes. "Two reasons, really. You've been happier recently, with her around. I'm really happy for you, bro, and I want to make sure you don't screw that up …"

He trails off, and Katsuki's frustration spikes. "And?"

Eijirou sighs. "But Uraraka's also my friend, and I don't wanna see her get hurt again. She's trying to be strong, but the thing with Midoriya and Todoroki really affected her. You're leaving for America after graduation, which doesn't give you much time, and she deserves so much more than a quick fling –"

"You think I don't know that?" Katsuki asks, incredulous. He can feel his temper rising, and he clenches his hands into tight fists as he tries to control it. "Why do you think I haven't fuckin' said anything to her? I _know_ she deserves more. She deserves _so_ much more and … and I can't give that to her. So I'm not gonna say anything, fuck off to America, and it won't be an issue."

Eijirou bites his lip. "It's only November," he says. "You're going to be okay holding that in until next August?"

"Doesn't fucking matter," Katsuki says, standing. "It's what I gotta do. Now come on, I'm not fucking talking about this anymore. Let's go back to the dorms."

Eijirou looks as if he wants to say something more, but he doesn't. "Okay," he says, pushing himself to his feet as well. "Let's go."

* * *

Uraraka returns to the dorms later that afternoon.

The entirety of their class has been waiting in the common room all afternoon so that they'd be there for her arrival. The news plays on the television – they had been watching it at first, but had muted it once it began repeating itself. The attack had indeed been a distraction, but it was a red herring – there hadn't been any movement of the League itself, and that leaves everyone more on edge than if there had been.

"Hey guys!" Uraraka says when she enters, "I'm back!"

Her voice is an arrow that pierces Katsuki's heart, and he freezes. Everyone else scrambles to crowd around her, but he stays in place on the couch, his gaze locked on the silent TV. Eijirou – who had been sitting beside him – gives him a sympathetic pat on his knee when he stands to join the rest of their class.

Katsuki hates it.

The television flashes images of yesterday's fight, and for every shot of all his other classmates, there's one of Uraraka floating high above everything, relaying information and issuing orders with that determined look on her face that fucks him up so bad.

They show the footage of his failure far too often.

It's too much. He can feel the anger and frustration and … and whatever other emotions he's feeling roiling just beneath the surface of his skin. He needs to get out of here before he explodes. He doesn't know why he lingered this long in the first place.

Well, he does, but it's a shit reason.

He grabs the remote and turns the TV off with a barely audible _click_ before standing up and stalking out of the common room. Against his better judgement, he looks over at Uraraka as he passes. Their eyes meet, and Katsuki's heart lodges itself in his throat as he rips his gaze away.

He doesn't want this.

This needs to stop.

"Bakugou!" Uraraka calls after him, and it's a second shot to the heart – the only reason he survives is because his heart is still lodged firmly in his throat. He ignores her, and walks straight out of the room without a second glance.

How is he supposed to face her?

Eijirou's words echo in his mind as he slams the door to his room behind him and turns the lock. He _knows_ someone is going to come chasing after him – be it Eijirou or Uraraka – and he wants nothing more than to just be _alone_ right now.

His palms crackle. The sound and sensation helps to ground him, but it's not enough. He paces his room, eager to let off some of the energy burning within him. Sitting still would not do him any good at the moment.

He can't say anything to her. He needs to get his shit together or else someone other than Eijirou will start to notice. He should have squashed these feelings right when they made an appearance, but when had that been? Had it been the Sports Festival this year, when he realized he was fucked, or did it go back further than that? Had it been the Sports Festival their _first_ year, and he was just so emotionally stunted and single-mindedly focused on his rivalry with fucking _Deku_ that he hadn't realized and written it off as respect?

God _damn_ it.

The crackles turn into a small explosion, which helps but doesn't help enough.

And then she had to go and be all fucking _noble_ , like fucking _Deku_ , and nearly gotten herself killed in the process because she wasn't paying enough _fucking attention!_ He's not always going to be there to save her, and he's never going to be there to save her come August. And she … she shouldn't fucking need his help in the first place!

… She didn't need his help this time, either.

Katsuki's knees go weak and he lands on the edge of his bed. If he hadn't gone rushing in like he had, knowing as he did that he was at the very limit of his quirk, then maybe Glasses could have actually caught her. As it was, he'd had to worry about the both of them, and they'd been just far enough apart that he couldn't catch them both.

It would have been better if he hadn't tried.

It would have been better.

It would have been.

But he's brash and he's selfish and he has a hero complex a mile wide and she deserves so much _more_.

And where does that leave him?

Katsuki sighs and falls back onto his bed. His palms still crackle, but the energy seeps away from him as a much darker, heavier, cooler feeling permeates his soul.

He has to give it up, doesn't he?

He's known this all along, of course, but he thought he could handle it. He thought he could handle it, but it's becoming very clear very quickly that he cannot, and … and he needs some space while he figures out where to go from here.

He craves her attention and the validation that comes with it. He has a love-hate relationship with the way his stomach twists when she sits down with him at lunch. Receiving her texts quickly became the best part of his day.

But he's gotten too close, and if he stays this close, it'll only get worse. He wishes there was some way to extricate himself without hurting her, but nothing other than the truth would suffice – and telling her the truth would create a whole new slew of problems.

It shouldn't be hard. He's Bakugou Katsuki, fucking … 3-A's resident Asshole Extraordinaire.

It's barely five o'clock, but Katsuki turns out his light and buries himself under the covers. When Eijirou comes knocking, he doesn't answer. When … Uraraka … comes knocking, he doesn't answer.

When he asks himself if this is really the best choice to make … he doesn't answer.

* * *

He forgets to count on Uraraka's tenacity.

For the next two weeks, he doesn't look at her in class. When they're told to pair up for partner work, academic or otherwise, Katsuki is next to Eijirou before Uraraka even has a chance to turn around. She still sits with them at lunch, but Katsuki stops engaging and leaves Eijirou to carry the conversation. In the dorms, he doesn't stick around the common area if she's there.

He doesn't respond to her texts.

He's gunning for a clean break – she deserves nothing less. He refuses to give her a sign that he wants things to go back to the way they were before. He doesn't want to lead her on.

God fucking dammit, he makes it sound as if they'd actually been in a relationship, which they hadn't – and isn't that the crux of this whole goddamn problem in the first place?

"Dude," Eijirou says one day after Katsuki snubs Uraraka yet again, "this is _exactly_ what I told you not to do!"

Katsuki just shrugs.

The frequency of her texts dies down, and he should feel relieved. He does feel relieved, in a sense, but there's a part of him that keeps waiting for his phone to buzz. He's given up on her, but he doesn't want her to give up on him. Just how sick and twisted is that?

When his phone _does_ buzz with a text from her one night for the first time in nearly five days, he just about has a heart attack. He scrambles to open it –

 _Okay, fine._

– and his heart drops down into his toes.

So that's that, then, he thinks as he drops his phone back onto his bedsheets with a huff. He's done it. He's successfully regained his ability to push away the people who mean the most to him, and he's never felt shittier about it.

BANG!

He nearly jumps out of his _skin_.

BANG!  
BANG!

Someone – or some _thing_ – is knocking on his door. But not his bedroom door, no. His balcony door.

BANG!  
BANG!  
BANG!

A wave of fury rolls over him. He's not thinking straight; the only thing on his mind is his desire to blast something to smithereens to make himself feel better, and he's just been granted with the perfect opportunity.

BANG!  
BANG!  
BANG!  
BANG!

He flings the curtain aside and glares out the window, but there's nothing there. Shaking with ill-contained anger, he throws the door open and steps outside.

"I know you're out here, fucker," he calls. "Why don't you show your –"

A heavy weight drops down on him from above, knocking him back into his room. His prepared explosion pops off harmlessly as he falls backward, but he catches himself and he's ready and raring to strike back when the sight before him stops him in his tracks.

"What the _hell_ is your problem?"

Uraraka stands before him in her black tank top and a pair of worn sweatpants, hands on her hips and her arms akimbo. She glares up at him with an expression that can only be described as a cross of righteous indignation, incredulity, and ire. Her brown eyes pin him in place like an insect to a card.

"W- What the hell is _my_ problem?" he bites back. "What the hell is _yours?_ What the fuck do you think you're doing, dropping in on me like that?"

"Oh no," Uraraka snaps with a slight shake of her head. One hand comes off her hip; she holds a pink-padded index finger up before her and brandishes it at him. "You don't get to pull that with me, not after how you've _ghosted_ me the last couple weeks! This was the only way I was gonna get you to talk to me, so talk."

"No."

He can't do this right now. He can't do this, ever. If he opens his mouth, he doesn't know if he'll be able to stop himself from saying everything he doesn't want to say. He turns away from her and sits back at his desk, determined to focus on his math assignment and not her.

Uraraka throws both hands up in the air in frustration. "Was it something I did?" she demands. "Because I've been racking my brain for _weeks_ trying to figure out what on _Earth_ it could be and I've got _nothing_."

Something she did? Try _everything_ she did. Katsuki's pencil lead breaks against the paper. "No. It's nothing. Fuck off."

"Yeah, I'm not buying that." The words fall blunt from her lips, and she crosses her arms. "You're not gonna get rid of me that easily, so stop being such an _ass_ and tell me what the problem is!"

She wants a fight? Fine. She'll get a fight.

Katsuki slams his hands down on his desk and stands again, whirling around to face her. There's a cold sort of fire in her eyes. Her gravity-defying brown hair is in disarray, her jaw is set square in determination, and goddammit, why does she have to be so infuriatingly _perfect?_

Think, think, think …

"You almost died!"

Uraraka freezes at his words, and the anger slips from her features. "I'm fine, Bakugou," she says gently. It makes his heart ache. "It's not even the worst that's happened to someone in our class."

"I know that," Katsuki growls, "but you were reckless! You let your guard down and left yourself wide open to that fucking attack! It was a stupid mistake to make!"

Oh, never mind. Now she's _seething_. "Yeah, Bakugou. It was a _mistake_. It _happens_."

"You made yourself a fucking target up there! It's a miracle that something didn't happen sooner!"

"I knew the risks!" she snaps. "I _volunteered_ for that job – Thirteen wasn't going to make me do it, but I knew that I was the one most qualified. I don't know how many people I saved, but it was a lot – a lot more than would have been saved if I hadn't been up there!"

"At what cost?" Katsuki demands. "Dehydration? Hypoglycemia? Really, Uraraka, did you not eat or drink _anything_ all day?"

"What, so I could lose time just puking up whatever it was anyway? And leave myself vulnerable, which you were _just_ harping on me about?" She shakes her head and steps into his space. She glares up at him, their height difference intensified by the lack of distance. Still, the challenge is clear. "Bakugou, I'm not the only one who took risks that day. I'm not the only one who got hurt or didn't take care proper care of myself, so what's this _really_ about?"

"It's. About. Nothing," he spits through his teeth.

"No. It's. Not," she mirrors, mocking him. "You're not not talking to Kirishima. You're not not talking to Iida. You're acting _exactly_ the same with everyone else in our class except me, so why. Am. I. Different?"

His blood is boiling, and he snaps.

"Because –!"

He cuts himself off, and there's no other way to describe it: he shuts down. He clamps his mouth tight, wipes the emotion from his face, and rips his gaze away from her.

"Because _what,_ Bakugou?" she insists. "It shouldn't matter. I'm a hero like the rest of you. I'm not _special_."

He wonders, briefly, if she knows exactly what the problem is. He wonders if she's been baiting him on purpose, and he wonders why it works.

To hell with it.

" _Yes_ ," he says tightly, still refusing to meet her eyes, "you are."

It's not a confession, but it is.

He hopes it's vague enough that it'll fly right over her head.

But at this point, Uraraka knows him too well. She gasps – a sharp inhale that takes a drag on his heart. When he dares glance at her, she's staring wide-eyed back at him. Her hands are over her mouth, and he …

He … he just fucked up, didn't he?

"Fuck," he bites through gritted teeth. He runs a hand back through his hair and tears his gaze from hers once again. "Forget it. Please get the fuck out."

"W-wait!" she cries as he turns away toward the door. Eight soft, callused hands wrap around his wrist, and everything within him flips and freezes as if it had been ten. His heart stops. His lungs seize up. The fact that his limbs feel like lead is the only thing that keeps him grounded.

"Shouldn't we at least talk about this?" she asks – nay, pleads – in something close to a whisper.

He shrugs, though not hard enough to dislodge her hands. "Does it matter?"

A long few moments of silence follow his question. She searches his face for something – for what, he doesn't know. There's a softness in hers that wasn't there before, and it …

"I suppose not," she says with a sigh, letting his wrist fall from her fingers. "We're so busy, we're months away from graduating … you're moving to America …"

And she's still in love with fucking Deku.

… it breaks his heart.

"Yeah," he croaks. "I know."

Uraraka opens her mouth as if to say something else, but after a moment's hesitation, it snaps shut. She nods curtly, and that's that.

"Okay. I … I guess I'll see you in class tomorrow," she says instead. She slips out of his room – slips away from him – and that's that.

And that's that.

And that's that.

And that's …

Exactly what he wanted?

No.

Not at all.

But it's exactly what he deserves.


	4. I don't want anyone else

**Limerence**  
(Storm)

* * *

Ochako takes pride in the general unflappability she's cultivated over her three years at UA. Given the fact she's survived several logical ruses, multiple villain attacks, and a sheer number of quirk-fueled shenanigans that are the natural result of twenty super-powered teenagers living together twenty-four seven, there's not much that can pierce through her newfound equanimity.

Even when Deku had told her about Todoroki, she had taken the news with little more than a blink and a heartfelt "congratulations." Supporting her crush in his new relationship had been hard, but she'd seen it coming months beforehand. Deku had been _talking_ to her about it months beforehand. It was hardly a surprise.

Yes, she takes great pride in her levelheadedness.

And yet Bakugou had managed to shatter her composure with only three words.

 _Yes. You are._

She doesn't remember what she had been hoping to get out of her ambush of Bakugou that evening. All she can remember is that she'd been sick and tired of the sudden cold shoulder and had been determined to get answers out of him one way or another.

"You need to give him time," Momo had told her earlier that day. "You really scared him when you fell."

"You scared all of us," Tsuyu had added.

"But it was so _romantic_ the way he blasted off to try to save you," Mina had gushed, then made a face. "It feels weird putting 'romantic' and 'Bakugou' in the same context."

Ochako had laughed them off. "It's not like that," she'd said. "You guys know how protective Bakugou is of everyone in the class. He would've tried to save anyone."

The girls had all raised their eyebrows and exchanged glances with each other. "We … didn't actually know that," Kyouka had said.

"Uhm. Well," Ochako had stammered, then changed the subject.

So maybe …

Maybe it shouldn't have been as much of a surprise as it was.

But Bakugou is _Bakugou_ , and it didn't even occur to her. After all, he's just as close if not closer to Kirishima. That doesn't mean he has _feelings_ for him, and Bakugou certainly deserves more than one friend.

She still feels bad for the way she had left him there in his room, but her knees had gone weak and she'd needed to get out as fast as possible. She'd run into Kirishima as she left, and it had only taken one look at him to know that he knew exactly what had happened.

It's not that she –

Hm.

Ochako … doesn't have feelings for Bakugou – not like she did for Deku – but she doesn't _not_ have feelings either.

By all accounts, it doesn't make sense.

But here she is anyway.

It's an odd place to be. She now knows Bakugou has feelings for her, which – like Mina had said – is kind of weird. Not, like, a bad weird, but weird all the same. Bakugou hadn't shown interest in _anyone_ throughout their years at UA. How long had he liked her?

 _Does it matter?_

His voice echoes in her head, and her answer is the same as it was.

 _I suppose not._

What does it matter if her stomach twists a little bit whenever he walks into the room? What does it matter if her heart beats a little faster whenever he addresses her? What does it matter?

What does it matter … even if she's starting to wonder if she wants it to matter?

* * *

Winter creeps across Japan; its ghostly hands send chills down everyone's backs. The chill settles into their bones, and only the promise of the holidays keeps their spirits afloat. Everyone shrinks into themselves as they shiver to keep warm during the walk between the dorms and the classroom and during their outdoor exercises.

The couples become even more … _coupley,_ and it's hard to find Deku without Todoroki glued to his hip these days.

But it's okay. She's okay. It's been months, and Ochako has shrugged off the vestiges of her old crush. She no longer avoids the two of them – instead, she often joins them for as long as she feels she hasn't overstayed her welcome. After all, Deku's friendship means far too much to her for her to let it slip away due to her own insecurities and misgivings.

And besides, Todoroki is actually pretty cool. Ochako knew this, of course – she'd listened to Deku talk about his crush for _months_ before anything had actually happened, and Todoroki had opened up more and more as the years passed. All the same, hanging out with him one-on-one (plus Deku) is new for her, and she enjoys his quick wit and dry humor and levelheaded impulsiveness.

It's a good thing she feels comfortable with them again, because with things with Bakugou still up in the air, Ochako would have felt out of place in two of her three social groups if she didn't.

Since their 'talk,' Bakugou hasn't been freezing her out the way he did for those two weeks following the fight, but it's an uneasy truce. They partner again in class, but their conversations are short and stilted, and they don't really talk any more than they have to in order to complete the assignments. They begin texting again, but his responses are pithy and clipped.

She doesn't like it.

"I don't know what to do," she says one cold December afternoon, curled up in a blanket at the foot of Deku's bed. Deku swivels idly in his desk chair while Todoroki reclines against the headboard. Deku's room is toasty – much warmer than the hallway outside – and she knows Todoroki's been doing his human space heater thing.

Deku is so lucky.

"About Kacchan?"

She nods mutely.

They'd done a joint training exercise in class earlier that afternoon, and Ochako had paired with Bakugou for the first time since taking some time to work with her other friends. For that class period, as they plotted how best to use their quirks together and beat their classmates, it had felt like nothing had ever happened between them. They'd laughed and grinned and had _fun_ together.

And they'd _won_. In their excitement, he'd hugged her … and she'd hugged him back … and then he froze, dropped her, and just walked away.

Feeling as though she'd been struck by lightning and had her heart torn asunder, she'd done her best to pick herself back up before anyone noticed. Blackened and charred, she doesn't know what had possessed her to seek out Deku, of all people, but here she is: curled up with a blanket on his bed like things had never been weird between them.

Maybe it's because Deku still sees the best in Bakugou, even after all these years. Maybe it's because she knows he won't tease her like her girlfriends would. Maybe it's because, despite everything, Deku still makes her feel _safe_.

He's her lighthouse on the rocks.  
Her safe harbor.  
Her port in the storm.

"Well, we've established he likes you," Deku says, continuing to swivel. "Do you like him?"

"I don't know," Ochako mumbles. She idly drags a finger across the blanket, leaving little swirls in its wake. "I really liked being friends. I felt like we understood each other. But we're so busy with school … and he's moving to America after graduation …"

"And you're avoiding the question," Todoroki says.

She shrugs. "Do I like him, or do I just not want things to be weird anymore?" she asks. "The thought hadn't occurred to me until he said something, so I don't know if it's really something _I_ want. And it's really hard to tell when we don't even talk anymore."

Deku nods along with her words. "Kacchan is probably feeling vulnerable," he says. "Despite what everyone thinks, it's not that he doesn't feel emotions. If anything, I think he feels _too much_ emotion, all the time, and doesn't know how to handle it."

She smiles and rests her head on her knees. "I kind of figured that out," she says, unable to keep the fondness from creeping into her voice. "And usually, I know how to handle him. But this time?" She shrugs again, helplessly.

"You just need to stop letting him get away with being a little bitch," Todoroki says, casual as anything.

Ochako looks up, startled. Then she giggles. "Yeah?"

A small smile cracks Todoroki's face. "Yeah. Isn't that what you said you did before?"

Ochako hums. "Yeah, I guess – not in quite so many words though! But like, I knew what I wanted then. I don't know what I want now, and I don't want to lead him on unintentionally."

Deku blinks at her. "Do you think you _would_ lead him on?"

"I don't know!" Ochako cries, burying her face in her hands. There's a flip in her stomach that tells her she just activated her quirk, but the blanket weighs her down on the bed.

"Uraraka, I think you like him," Todoroki says, short and blunt. "This wouldn't be an issue if it wasn't an issue."

A small 'eep' escapes her lips, and she concentrates on releasing her quirk. When she feels her weight settle back down on the bed, she hugs her legs and buries her face in her knees. Something is roiling inside her, her thoughts churning in her head like ocean waves against the coastline in a squall.

Maybe … maybe she does like him? But if so, since when? Since That Night back in August, when he'd opened up to her in a way he never had before? Or did it go back further, to when she realized he was more bluster than bite and refused to be intimidated by his so-called Baku-Rage Aura?

Deku casts her a sympathetic look. "Shouto's right," he says with a twist of his mouth. "It's not like you to be this bothered by something you think shouldn't bother you."

Case in point: her old crush on him.

"I hate you both," she groans into the blanket.

"No you don't," Deku says flippantly – probably grinning. She doesn't bother to check for herself; she flips him the bird anyway.

He just laughs. "I think Kacchan's rubbed off on you more than you think."

Ochako sighs and goes back to doodling designs in the blanket so she doesn't have to make eye contact with either of them. "Okay, so … so what if I might?" she asks. "It's not like it really matters, when everything else still holds true. We're still training to be heroes, we're still months from graduation, he's still moving to America after graduation … I don't know if it's really worth it."

"Respectfully, Uraraka," Todoroki says, "that's bullshit."

Ochako looks up and blinks back at him.

"Izuku and I only got our shit together at the beginning of this year. _He's_ dealing with the added pressure of being All Might's successor. _I'm_ moving to America after graduation. But it isn't stopping us from being together."

"Aw, Shouto."

Ochako scrunches her nose at the sickening sweetness radiating off the two. "Yeah, but you guys are … _you_ , y'know? We've all seen that coming since like, last year, if not earlier. You're gonna do the long distance thing and be stronger than before, and I just … don't see that happening with Bakugou."

"Do you want that to happen with Kacchan?" Deku asks.

Ochako throws her hands up in the air. "I don't know!" she exclaims again. "I haven't thought about it! But even if I did, I don't think he's the type."

"You know your first relationship doesn't have to be The One," Todoroki says pragmatically. "It's not a bad thing to be with someone for funsies."

Ochako nearly loses it at Todoroki saying 'funsies' with a straight face. "So … you think I should go for it?" she asks, somewhat confused by the support she knows she wouldn't have received in the same magnitude from her girlfriends.

"We're saying you should do what makes you happy," Deku explains. "If that means starting something with Kacchan, then go for it. If it means not doing anything, then do that."

Todoroki nods in agreement.

Deku bites at his lip and runs a hand through his curls to rub at the back of his neck. "If I'm being honest, though," he says, "I think you're good for him. He needs someone who will go toe-to-toe with him, and challenge him, and not take any of his shit. He really respects you, Uraraka – of course, that should be like, the _base_ requirement for any relationship so I dunno how much that actually means anything, and –"

"Izuku," Todoroki cuts in softly, "you're going off on a tangent again."

"Ah." Deku says. "Right. Well, you get the point."

Ochako smiles and unfurls from beneath the blanket. "Thanks, guys. That … really helps. I think."

"You don't have to go," Deku says when she makes to stand. "You're welcome to hang out here where it's warm for a while. We could watch a movie or something."

She casts a look between the two boys. "Are you sure?"

Todoroki nods.

"Well … alright," she says, snuggling back under the blanket but moving over in a clear invitation for Deku to sit next to his boyfriend. "What are we watching?"

* * *

Despite her talk with Deku and Todoroki, Ochako struggles with herself for another week. What does she want? Does she really like Bakugou, or does she just like him because she knows he likes her? God, if having an unrequited crush was hard, having a requited one is even _harder_. Which it shouldn't be, but it's so much more difficult to ignore it and disregard it and brush it aside knowing that Bakugou is struggling just as much as she is.

She thinks.

He must be, right?

It's kind of hard to tell. What if, in telling her, he got over it? What if now that she's the one crushing on him, he's already moved on?

"You _did_ reject him," Deku reminds her with a rueful look on his face when she brings it up at lunch one day. "He's going to respect that, and besides, you know he has his pride. He's not gonna come crawling back to you."

Ochako scrunches her nose. She doesn't like the image that invokes. She knows Bakugou is a prideful motherfucker, but despite how frustrating that can be … it's one of the things she likes and admires about him.

"So it'd be up to me," she surmises.

"Hmm? Yeah. Pretty much," Deku confirms.

"Okay. Yeah. Cool. Awesome."

She's still not convinced that she actually likes him. She still doesn't want to say anything she doesn't actually mean and accidentally lead him on. But … she can't _not_ say anything.

What does it matter, she muses that afternoon as they walk back to the dorms after class, if it turns out she doesn't like him after all? He's moving to America in August, so that will give her a convenient out if she needs it.

 _It's not a bad thing to be with someone for funsies._

Todoroki's words echo in her head, and she giggles yet again.

Her resolution made, she pounds a mittened fist into a mittened hand. Okay! Now she just has to find an opportunity to actually _talk_ to Bakugou, preferably without anyone else around. They're lucky that Bakugou's only neighbor is Kirishima, and that he wasn't around to actually _hear_ their argument last month. Not that it really matters – Kirishima knows everything anyway.

Kirishima knows everything anyway.

Now that's an idea …

"Hey, Kirishima!" she chirps, sidling up to him and hooking her arm through his. "I've got a question for you!"

He grins down at her. "Sure, Uraraka. What's up?"

She's suddenly very aware of Bakugou watching her from Kirishima's other side. She meets his eyes, and there's something … dark, she thinks, in his face. Well, Bakugou always looks like he hates the world, but this is more than that. This isn't his usual explosive anger – this is a thundercloud that hasn't yet begun to rain.

Her mouth forms a silent 'oh' as she realizes the position she's in, leaning against Kirishima with her arm wrapped through his. Bakugou is _jealous,_ although surely he knows that Kirishima is the absolute last person who would screw him over like that. Her heart lodges itself in her throat, and she coughs to clear it.

"Uh, not here," she says, forcing her gaze away from red-morning eyes to meet red-night eyes instead. "Walk with me?"

Kirishima raises his eyebrows at her and gives her a Look that tells her he knows exactly what this is about. She shrugs, and he shakes his head with a smile. "Sure," he says, and turns to Bakugou. "I'll catch you later, bro."

"Whatever, Shitty Hair."

Kirishima winces as they walk away. "Yep, he's mad," he says. "You'd better have good reason for this. You know he's been tetchier than a crotchety old man lately."

Ochako winces back at him. "Yeah, I know," she says. "That's actually … what I wanted to talk to you about."

"I mean, I kinda figured," he says. "How can I help? Actually, wait. Sorry, I have to ask. Best bro responsibility and all. What are you planning to do? Because he doesn't need his face rubbed in this any more than it already has been."

Ochako laughs through her guilt and pats his arm. "I'm really glad he has you, and I'm really sorry you got pulled into the middle of this absolute shitshow."

Kirishima shrugs. "I kinda put myself here, to be honest."

"You know," she says, "I'm not surprised. But anyway. I want to, uh. Yeah, I –" God, why is saying it out loud so hard? She takes a deep breath to collect herself. "I want to give it a shot," she finally says. "I still don't know how I really feel, but I think it could work."

Kirishima beams down at her, and it's almost too bright to look at. "If you were anyone else I'd ask to make sure you weren't just playing with him, but I know you wouldn't do that," he says. "I'm really happy for you guys – I think you're good for each other."

Ochako shrugs. "That's what Deku said too," she admits. At least, he'd said she was good for Bakugou. He hadn't said anything about Bakugou being good for _her_ , but it was probably an oversight on his part, considering he'd gotten distracted by his own thoughts. It's nice to hear it from Kirishima.

"So what do you need from me?"

She purses her lips. "I need to talk to him," she says, "Preferably without anyone around, but I know asking him to talk to me probably won't work. You have a pretty good idea of his routine, right? Is there a good time I could corner him and get him to listen to me?"

Kirishima thinks for a moment. As they walk in silence, surrounded by the chatter of their classmates, it begins to snow. Ochako grins and tries to catch a snowflake on her tongue.

Beside her, Kirishima laughs. "You're adorable," he says. "But actually, I think the best time to catch Bakugou would be when he's at the gym. He goes around six o'clock almost every night, and the underclassmen have all decided it's best they be elsewhere during that time."

Makes sense. Bakugou has calmed down since first year, for sure, but he's still extremely intimidating if one doesn't know him well. "What about everyone from our year?" she asks.

"Hmm … well, I'm sure Midoriya and I could create a distraction to keep everyone from our class away, and I could ask Tetsutetsu to do the same for class B … oh! But if you catch him tonight, you probably won't have to worry too much. We're supposed to get a huge blizzard – I doubt anyone's gonna want to walk over to the gym tonight."

Ah. Tonight? That's … a bit sooner than Ochako was anticipating on having to face all her problems, but she supposes it's best to get it out of the way with.

"Yeah," she says, blowing warm air into her hands. "Yeah, alright. I'll catch him tonight. Do you think I'll need to barricade the door?"

"It might not hurt," Kirishima says with a grin, "but I think you'll be fine. He's so far gone on you, he won't be able to deny you anything, I promise."

Well. If that's not a bit of pressure added to the entire situation.

* * *

The blizzard is blustering in full force by six o'clock that night. Dressed in a pink sports bra, black leggings, and a black Thirteen tank top as if she's actually going to work out, Ochako stands by the back door of the 3-A dorms and stares out into the swirling whiteness. There are footprints embedded in the snow that already lies on the ground – they must be Bakugou's, because only a fool would leave the dorm in this weather.

Well, that makes her a fool, then.

Pulling her coat tighter around her body, she steps out into the storm. She's immediately buffeted by the wind, and all thoughts of cancelling her gravity to make walking through the deep snow easier are rescinded. Thankfully, it's not a long walk to Gym Zeta, since it's located on the dorm grounds rather than on campus.

Her jacket and boots are soaked by the time she reaches the gym, and she shrugs both off in the locker room. Slipping pink sneakers onto her feet and pulling her long hair up into a high ponytail, she stares herself down in one of the mirrors.

She can do this. She's kicked Bakugou's ass in combat several times. This should be so much easier than that … right?

Right?

Wrong.

Bakugou is indeed the only one in the gym aside from herself. She stands in the entranceway and watches him for a moment, entranced. His skin glistens with sweat as he works the fly machine with a single-minded determination that she's seen on all their classmates' faces several times. There's something different about seeing it on Bakugou, though, and she shivers.

Maybe that's just a delayed reaction to the chill outside.

Bakugou finishes his set and sighs. When he looks up and sees her standing there, he visibly startles. He doesn't meet her eyes; instead, he turns away and takes a swig from his water bottle.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing here?" he bites.

"I –" her words fail her. She tries to think of the best thing to say, and she eventually settles on, "I'm here to work out, same as you. What set are you on?"

Bakugou looks like he wants to call bullshit on her – as well he should – but he doesn't. Maybe Kirishima was onto something. "I just started," he says begrudgingly. "Take that one – we'll switch off."

They work out in silence for nearly an hour, the rhythmic squeaking of machines, the huff of their breathing, and the howling of the wind outside the only sounds between them. All the same, there's a weird electricity about them, like the oppressive supernatural aura the world takes on before a thunderstorm. The hair on her arms stands on end, and the longer the silence stretches on, the more oppressive it becomes.

"I'm going to the bench press. Spot me?" His voice is the lightning strike, the beat of her heart the thunderclap.

"Sure," she says.

She finds something – anything – else to focus on while he loads the weights.

"Who usually spots you?" she asks, looking for a distraction as he settles himself on the bench. It's a weird feeling, standing above him. It's not something that happens every day. "You usually work out alone, right?" No need to rat Kirishima out for tattling on his gym habits.

He shrugs and adjusts his hands on the bar. "Kirishima, sometimes. Half n' Half, occasionally. Deku if I'm desperate. Glasses. If no one's here, I just stick to the machines."

He does a set, and they trade off. She has to remove some of the weight, but not nearly as much proportionally as she once did. Even without her quirk, she can lift more than the rest of the girls in their class, and more than some of the boys too.

"What about you?"

Oh, is that an attempt at willingly initiating conversation with her? That's new. She must be wearing him down. "Usually Tsuyu," she says. While the six of them often work out together, they've long since split into smaller pairs: Ochako and Tsuyu, Momo and Jirou, Tooru and Mina. It just makes things easier.

"But I don't actually need a spotter," she reminds him with a cheeky grin, waggling her fingers.

"You should still have one," he grumbles. "It's not fucking safe."

She does her set, and they trade off again. They do their second sets in silence, and it's on the third that Ochako finally takes a breath and gathers her courage.

"So," she says as he loads weight back onto the bar. "How long?"

He's on the bench and adjusting his grip on the bar when he replies, "What?"

"How long have you liked me?"

His eyes go wide for a split second, and instead of answering, he lifts the bar. Ochako waits patiently as he does his reps, but when he continues to go past the number he had set, she grabs the barbell with one hand and activates her quirk. It immediately loses all its weight, and she takes it from his hands.

"You _bitch_ ," he growls with a ferocity that she's no longer used to receiving from him. He moves as if to sit up and get off the bench, and she panics. Still holding the barbell, she slings a leg over the bench and settles her weight on his waist so that she's sitting just above his hips. She hooks her feet underneath the bench for extra leverage.

Her arms are strong, but her thighs are stronger. He could still throw her off if he tried, but he won't.

"Answer the question."

"I thought it didn't matter," he spits, glaring off to the side. His arms fold across his chest.

"It didn't," Ochako says, digging in her heels when he tries to dislodge her. "Now it does."

He freezes, then goes limp beneath her as the weight of her words hits him. She lets go of the barbell, and it floats aimlessly away from them.

"Fucking … fine. Whatever, I guess," he grumbles. "Since the Sports Festival. This year. Or first year. Take your fuckin' pick because I sure as hell don't know."

Ochako blinks. That … long? She doesn't know what she had been expecting. August, maybe – the night they had their conversation in the common room. But the Sports Festival …

"That was in May," she says, stunned. She chooses to overlook the part where he said he might have liked her since _first year_.

"Yeah. I know. What's your fucking point?"

Ochako bites her lip, and she watches as Bakugou's eyes track the movement. It's only then that she realizes she really does have a power over him that he's never given anybody else.

"I, uh," she stammers, "I wasn't – I didn't think about it until you told me. But, um. It's been all I've been able to think about since then."

Bakugou stares blankly back at her. "What did you just fuckin' say?"

Ochako laughs nervously and nearly loses her balance. Her feet drop to the floor and she steadies herself with four fingers against his chest, but not before his hands shoot out to brace her thighs.

It's … nice.

The moment he realizes what he's done he moves to take his hands back, but she lays her own hands over his, keeping them there. Until now, she didn't know that Bakugou could blush. Now she does, and he does so brilliantly.

She grins, but realizes she needs to continue talking. "Well, we've been closer since August, and I really enjoyed our friendship and what we had, but the thought of it being, well, _romantic_ , didn't occur to me until you said it outright, but I panicked, and then I just, um … I just didn't _know_ , and then we weren't talking, and –!"

And she hasn't said nearly the extent of what's been on her mind this past month, but his thumbs are rubbing hesitant circles against her thighs, and it's … distracting, to say the least.

"So what's. Your fucking. Point?"

Ochako knows her face must be bright red, but Bakugou's looking up at her with an expression that almost seems out of place on his face. It's so much softer than she's used to seeing on him, but it's still guarded, and she doesn't blame him for it.

"I want to give this – us – a shot," she murmurs, pressing a palm to his chest but keeping her pinky finger carefully raised. "I know you're moving in August. But that's –" she does some quick math in her head – "eight months away. I'm not … not trying to fool myself. We can plan to break up before you leave. Make it a clean break. Quick, easy, painless. But I think we'd be happier – together – before then."

She holds her breath as she waits for him to say something – anything.

The words don't come, but the guarded expression fades from his face, and he looks up at her like she's hung the moon. Like she's the first ray of sunlight shining through parting clouds after a storm. It's affection, and reverence, and everything words can't say that makes her feel lighter than air.

Her stomach flips, and suddenly she is.

"Whoops."

Bakugou _laughs_ and tightens his grip on her thighs, and suddenly she's laughing too. It only takes a little concentration to return weight to herself but keep the barbell floating. She doesn't know where it is or how high up it is and she honestly doesn't care enough to find out.

" _How_ is it that you always know exactly what to say?" Bakugou asks gently.

"I don't know," she says, pulling her thoughts back from the wayward barbell. "I just say what's on my mind."

One of his hands moves from her thigh to tug at the neckline of her tank top. She lets him pull her closer, coming down to rest on her forearms against his chest as her ponytail falls down over her shoulder.

"Well, then I'll say what's on mine. I'm going to kiss you now." He says it like it's not an option, but searches her face for permission all the same.

"Sounds good to me," she manages in a whisper.

And then her lips are on his, and despite how sharp and rough Bakugou is as a person, it's so so soft and tender and _sweet_ and it's almost like he's afraid of hurting her – which is incredible given the fact he's the only person who has _never_ been afraid of hurting her. She moves to deepen the kiss before he does, and it draws a noise from him that's so unlike any noise she's ever heard him make before.

His other hand moves from her hip to cup her cheek, and she threads her fingers back through his hair, making sure to keep her pinkies raised. They're both hot and kind of sweaty, but he sweats _nitroglycerin_ so instead of smelling like sweaty boy he smells more like burnt sugar and it's kind of unnerving just how much she likes it.

Her heart pounds. Her stomach flips. And suddenly she's hovering over top of him, his hands on her face and her hands in his hair the only things keeping them tethered. They break apart as they both start to laugh again, but neither let go.

"You're probably going to have to get used to that," she says wryly, wriggling her feet in the zero-g.

He grins up at her, all teeth and deviousness. "Bring it on."

* * *

They get back to the dorm … pretty late … that night. Despite the hour, Kirishima's there to give them the thumbs up when they stumble in out of the cold, and Bakugou flips him off.

It's nice to know that some things never change.


	5. She's a mystery

**Limerence  
** (Heroes)

* * *

The final months of Katsuki's high school career are the craziest few months he's ever known, and that's saying a lot given the sheer amount of bullshit he's been put through nearly every term since before even starting at UA. The sludge villain in middle school. The USJ attack in the first week of high school. The League's attack on the summer camp. Getting kidnapped by said League. The provisional license exam. Make-up work. That had all happened basically within a year, and things hadn't let up since then. The thing about the bullshit, though, is that he had – maybe not _expected_ it, but at least known how to _handle_ it.

Train. Fight. Improve. It's all he can do, and in those instances, it was all he had to do.

Much of his last few months at UA is the same in that regard. The League of Villains makes its move in January, two months after its red herring attack in Nabu City. The fight is long and hard and takes them all out of school for several days, but in the end the heroes come out on top with heavy injuries but few casualties. All Might … All Might's predicted time comes to pass, but if there's anything they've learned in the last three years, it's that nothing is set in stone. In spite of the odds, the Symbol of Peace still stands by the end of the fight.

And Katsuki …

Well, Katsuki may have been the gust that snuffed All Might's flame in their first year, but he's also one of the winds of change that ensure Yagi Toshinori's fire continues to burn on in their third.

For the first time in years, Katsuki can look at his hero without feeling the guilt that – while it had no longer threatened to consume him as it once did one dark night at Ground Beta – had continued to smolder in his chest. He almost doesn't know how to deal with the cold emptiness its absence leaves behind, but the chill is a welcome one.

Despite the League's attack and All Might's brush with death and the heavy involvement of the third-years in internships, their classwork load doesn't let up. If anything, their teachers double down on them in the wake of the attack. They aren't given a reason for the push beyond the fact they're graduating soon, but there's a consensus among 3-A that their teachers are realizing just how much academic work got pushed aside and skipped over due to the heightened villain activity over the last three years.

Between schoolwork and hero work, none of the third-years have time to _breathe_ , let alone relax.

But throughout it all … there's Ochako. Not Uraraka – _Ochako_. It's been months, and sometimes Katsuki still has trouble believing it's not all a dream. In fact, she's part of the reason things haven't just been busy, but crazy.

She's also the reason he hasn't _gone_ crazy.

If one had asked him in his first year what he thought the most significant life-changing moment in his high school career would be, he would have spouted some goddamn bullshit. 'Passing the entrance exam,' possibly. 'Earning a Sports Festival win,' maybe. 'Getting an internship with a top hero,' perhaps. 'Graduating ahead of fucking Deku,' most definitely.

Well. First-year Katsuki was an overly cocky, abrasive asshole of a dumbass.

Now, that's not saying he isn't still those things, but he likes to think he's gained a little bit of self-awareness in his three years at UA. He must have. After all, Ochako would never have chosen him if he still acted the way he had in their first year. He doesn't even have to guess about that – she _tells_ him as much sometime in those early days, when he's not yet convinced the other shoe won't drop.

But weeks pass, and then months pass, and he starts to find his footing among the rocks.

Standing beside her feels like standing atop a mountain. She's a view in and of herself – a breathtaking natural beauty he finds himself taking moments just to appreciate. Strong and immovable, she's been shaped and carved by one storm after another. She's unconquerable, but whenever she's beside him, he's overwhelmed by a feeling of victory, self-accomplishment, and a certain sense of serenity.

They're not under the impression that it will last. It won't, of course. It can't. But that's months away, and there are more pressing things to worry about in the meantime.

Fearing yet another attack by the weakened – yet undefeated – League, UA publishes a false graduation date and time to everyone except the students and the students' families. It's a precaution that hadn't been taken with the previous graduating classes, and it irks Katsuki a little bit that their year has to be coddled despite the fact they're more qualified and experienced than any graduating class that came though before theirs.

That being said, the League _does_ attack at the published date and time, and Katsuki is left wondering whether UA was coddling their students or setting a trap.

Knowing Principal Nedzu? Probably both.

The actual graduation ceremony is held after everyone from the hero courses has recovered from their injuries, and passes with little fanfare. Receiving his diploma is an anticlimactic let-down of an end to everything Katsuki's experienced over the past three years. How can one piece of paper symbolize the literal blood, sweat, and tears he'd shed on campus grounds? How can it encapsulate the bonds he had forged – however unwillingly at times – with his fellow classmates?

It can't, and it mocks him from where it sits on his lap.

A round of applause prompts him to look up, and he watches as Yaoyorozu climbs the stage to stand behind the podium. That's right – as valedictorian of the hero course she had been asked to give a speech at graduation. Ochako had mentioned she and the other girls had helped her put it together, and for once in his life, Katsuki listens intently.

Yaoyorozu takes a deep breath and gives the audience a level look before diving in.

"Three years ago," she starts, "every one of us here passed the single most defining test of our lives – UA's entrance exam." She pauses to accommodate a cheer from the crowd. "UA is Japan's pre-eminent high school for those aspiring to involve themselves in heroics. From the hero course itself, to the support and business courses, to the general studies course, every aspect of UA's culture is steeped in the long-standing legacies of its alumni: professional heroes. This is not a school one chooses to apply to on a whim – it's the fulfillment of a lifelong dream."

Katsuki remembers his resolve, remembers the _anger_ he'd felt toward Deku when he thought Deku was doing exactly that – applying on a whim. He didn't have a quirk, and it had felt like he was trivializing Katsuki's own ambition and drive which, unlike quirkless Deku's, was serious and attainable. The truth of the matter was – and still is – that Deku's drive was just _stronger_ than his, and that's a problem in and of itself that Katsuki still struggles with today.

"Professional heroes." Yaoyorozu's voice brings him back to the present. "Pro heroes. We hear that phrase a lot. Here at UA, we drop it in conversations like it's one of life's constants. But what does it mean?" She lets the question hang for a moment. "The definition of 'professional' is easy – it's an adjective that means 'following an occupation as a means of livelihood or for gain.' But what about _hero_? We all have different opinions about what makes someone _heroic_. Physical strength. Internal strength. The act of winning. The act of rescuing others. Manliness."

Somewhere in the crowd, Eijirou yelps. Yaoyorozu grins, and Class 3-A shares a laugh at his expense.

Yaoyorozu waits for the laughter to die down before continuing. "As we move forward, both in life and in our professional careers, we'll have to make a choice. What does _hero_ mean to us? Our careers require us to be heroes to others, yes, but what about ourselves? Despite how it may seem sometimes, _we_ matter just as much as any other citizen, and thus we need to be heroes to ourselves as well. As we go forward, I urge you to remember the kid who wanted to be where you are now, who dreamed of one day graduating from UA, and make them proud.

"I'll leave you with one parting thought," she says, meeting everyone's eyes in turn. "Heroes should be who we _are_ , not what we _do_. We _will_ make mistakes in the coming years – hell, we've already made several. But a hero who does the wrong thing for the right reason is in the moral right. A hero who does the right thing for the wrong reason, however, is in the moral wrong, and that's something we must keep in mind going forward if we are not to repeat our predecessors' mistakes."

Yaoyorozu leaves it vague, but the atmosphere in the room changes, and Katsuki knows everyone is thinking the same thing. The Hero Killer Stain may be three years dead but his ideals about the dubious morality of heroes continue to resonate with the jaded and the disillusioned. It's a sobering moment amongst the high of graduation, and it drives home what they've spent three years learning time and time again –

"I look forward to working with each and every one of you," Yaoyorozu says cheerfully. "Good luck – we did it!"

– Hero work is not for those of weak resolve.

Distantly he acknowledges the representatives from the support, business, and general education classes who also give speeches, but Katsuki doesn't listen to any of them.

He's caught up in his own thoughts.

Yaoyorozu's words resonate within his soul. Where does his decision to go to America fall? Is he doing the wrong thing for the right reason – leaving Ochako to further grow as both a hero and a person? Or is he doing the right thing for the wrong reason – going to America to grow as both a hero and a person because he can't … can't handle being in competition with Deku and potentially losing?

He doesn't entertain the thought that he might be doing the right thing for the right reason or the wrong thing for the wrong reason. There's both right and wrong here, and he can't figure out what's what.

The ceremony concludes, and this is the way high school ends; not with a bang but a whimper.

* * *

Leaving for America in August leaves him with few options immediately after graduation. His parents offer to let him move home for the intermediate months, but Katsuki flat-out refuses before his dad even finishes his sentence. Despite how it may seem, his relationships with his parents had improved tenfold after he'd moved to the dorms, and he's not about to set them right back at square one by returning home.

Not that he'd admit that.

Not to anyone other than Ochako, at least.

To everyone else, he cites the fact he can't stand the thought of _not_ doing hero work for five months, which isn't a lie. He'd likely go stir-crazy within a week if he were left with nothing to do, which would then exacerbate the aforementioned situation with his parents, and so on and so forth.

No fucking thank you.

Some of their friends have scattered to different corners of the country, accepting offers they couldn't before with school tying them down. Had things been different, Katsuki might have been one of them. He's always wanted to work in Tokyo proper, but considering the unlikeliness that any agency would want to take on a new hire for only five months, UA graduate or not, Katsuki stays on with Edgeshot's agency instead. He's promoted from intern to sidekick, and he begins treading water as the clock counts down.

And the clock _is_ counting down.

Time slips away from him like the scenery past the window of the bullet train on which he now sits, ever farther out of his grasp. It's nearly the end of May – he graduated two months ago, and he has only two months left in Japan before he moves on.

As a kid, a month feels like a long time. As an adult? Suddenly it's not nearly long enough.

His phone buzzes in his hand, drawing his empty attention away from the window and the future rushing into the past. The sensation grounds him in the present, and he takes a deep breath as he re-centers himself the way Edgeshot taught him to.

He opens the messaging app, ignores the text from his mother and the former Class 3-A group chat he keeps muted for a reason, and goes straight for the only message that matters.

 _You gonna be on time today, or did you get out late?_

A smile creeps across Katsuki's face as he reads and rereads the text. He hides the expression behind his hand and texts back with the other.

 _I'm on time today. I'm almost there._

 _Cool! I am too. See you in a little bit!_

The train pulls into the station a minute later. Katsuki hops off and immediately starts walking – he's meeting Ochako for dinner, and for once, he's actually on time. She is too, and that almost _never_ happens these days, so he's going to make the most of it.

His heart leaps when he sees her standing outside the restaurant they often frequent. She's dressed casually in a pink skirt, grey chucks, and a grey hoodie, her hair tied up in a loose ponytail. Despite the dawning twilight, she's got reflective aviators settled over those brown eyes of hers. As hot as the look is, he wishes he could see her eyes.

He loves her eyes.

She grins and waves when she sees him, and his heart stops for a solid two seconds before picking up again. They've been together for five months, and the way his stomach still flips at the sight of her makes him wonder if she can activate her quirk just by looking at him. He asked her, once. She only laughed in response and hadn't given him a proper answer.

"Hey, you," she greets him when he gets close. Bouncing up on her toes, she presses a soft peck to his cheek. He wants to turn and grab her lips with his own, but they're in public and – as much as he wants to show the world he's hers – that's not something he's comfortable with.

But Ochako knows this, and she doesn't push it. She steps back and takes his hand in hers and this … _this_ he can do. He laces their fingers, leaving her pinky finger to float on the outside. She grins up at him, and the corners of his mouth twitch into the smile he reserves for her and her alone.

He pushes all thoughts of his departure from his mind. They don't matter now. The only thing that matters in this moment is _her_.

"You hungry?" he asks, dragging her into the restaurant. "I'm fuckin' starving."

She laughs, somewhat sheepishly. "Me too! I haven't eaten much today …"

He glares at her as they take a seat at a table. She's removed her sunglasses, and he can finally look into those soft brown eyes of hers. "You were overusing your quirk again, weren't you," he accuses. "I saw the news updates."

"There was just so much rubble to clear!" she enthuses, ignoring his tone. "Thirteen took care of most of it, but a lot of civilians were trapped underneath it and they couldn't risk sucking people in along with the debris so I had to move it! And then move the civilians who couldn't move on their own to a place where the paramedics could get to them."

"That's not an excuse," Katsuki growls. "You need to take better care of yourself!"

"I know, I know," Ochako says, relenting. "I'm trying."

"Order the thing on the menu with the most calories, or I'll do it for you. You need it."

Their conversation breaks as they order, and Ochako takes his advice. She usually does, except for when he's being stupid. He takes her advice when she gives it too, because she almost always has a good point.

Part of him wonders how he's going to survive once she's no longer there to help him keep himself in check, but he survived until they began dating, and he'll survive afterward too.

"– tsuki? Are you listening?"

Shit. She'd been talking to him.

"Does it seem like I was fucking listening?" he asks. "Sorry, Ochako. I got lost in thought there."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine," he says. He's not going to burden her with his thoughts. Not now. "What were you saying?"

"I was just asking how your day was," she says. "I saw you and Edgeshot took down those petty thieves who have been giving you trouble lately."

Katsuki snorts. "Oh yeah, those guys. They were sneaky, but that's about all they had going for them."

Conversation flows easily between them, but they fall silent when their food is delivered. That's one of the best things about spending time with Ochako – they don't _have_ to be talking all the time. They sometimes spend as much time in comfortable silence as they do in conversation.

Katsuki loves Eijirou, but the man is _always_ talking.

… It's been a while since he's talked to Eijirou. He'll have to call him sometime soon.

"Mom, mom!" A shrill voice breaks the silence. "Look, it's Ground Zero! And Uravity!"

Both Katsuki and Ochako look over to see a young boy staring at them in wonder, his mother hovering nervously behind him.

"It sure is, honey," she says. "Come on, I'm sure they want to enjoy their meal in – peace."

But her words go unheeded. The boy runs up to the table with stars in his eyes. Katsuki looks over at Ochako, who is stifling giggles, and back to the kid.

"Oh man this is so cool!" the boy gushes. "I didn't think I'd see you here – I know Uravity works in this area but you're with Edgeshot's agency out in Kamino Ward! Oh man oh man oh man!"

Katsuki blinks. Ochako comes to his rescue. "You sure know a lot about us!" she says, grinning. "What's your name?"

The boy's eyes light up. "Tanken Haruto! I'm gonna be a hero when I grow up, just like you guys!"

But in that moment, Katsuki sees not Tanken Haruto, but himself. He sees not Tanken Haruto, but Deku. He sees the spirits of two naïve young boys, each with a dream and an enthusiasm rivaled only by that of the other, who had absolutely no clue what was to come.

"I'm so sorry," Tanken's mother says, catching up with him. "He's obsessed with the Golden Year, has been since your first Sports Festival three years ago."

Katsuki shakes the image from his brain and finally finds his tongue. "Is that what they're calling us?"

"Yeah!" Tanken says. "The largest, strongest graduating class in the history of UA! Except maybe All Might, but he doesn't count."

Both Katsuki and Ochako laugh. "What's your quirk, kid?" Katsuki asks.

Tanken grins. "Knife fingers!" A split second later, his pointer finger elongates into a wicked-looking dagger.

"Haruto, remember what I said about using your quirk outside the house?"

Tanken pouts as he transforms his finger back. "Don't."

"Come on," his mother says. "Why don't you get a photo and an autograph and we'll leave Uravity and Ground Zero to their meal."

"Oh don't worry about it," Ochako says. "We're more than happy to take a couple minutes to talk."

 _We are?_ Katsuki bites back the retort. He doesn't really mean it, after all. He might be an ass, but he's not going to be mean to kids. Not when an encounter like this would've meant the world to him when he was Tanken's age.

"Mom, could you take the picture? Please?"

Tanken's mother is already pulling her phone out of her purse. Katsuki and Ochako squat down next to the kid to match his height, and she snaps a few photos.

"Do you have anything for us to sign?" Ochako asks.

"Uhh," Tanken's mother says, searching her purse. "Here, I've got this little notebook."

"That works!"

Ochako signs a page in the notebook as 'Uravity,' and Katsuki signs 'Ground Zero' right below it. He hands the notebook back, and Tanken's mother takes her son's hand and drags him away to little protest. He's still talking excitedly until they're well out of earshot.

"I'm still having a hard time getting used to that," Ochako says. "The whole 'being recognized' thing. I'm just a country girl from Kansai!"

Katsuki shrugs. "It's great, isn't it? Getting the recognition we deserve?"

Ochako scrunches her nose, and it's adorable. "I guess," she says, "but we shouldn't be doing this for recognition. Remember Momo's speech at graduation?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

They fall silent. There's something bothering Katsuki, something about the encounter with Tanken, and he rolls some ideas around in his head as he struggles to express exactly what it is. Ochako watches him with interest as he puts it together, but doesn't say anything as she waits.

"That kid …" he says at long last, "how can he say he wants to be a hero when he doesn't _know_ what it entails? These kids, they see us on the TV being heroic and famous and all, but … they don't know about fuckin' everything else."

Sleepless nights.

An alarm clock that reads 01:37.

The rhythmic thud of a friend's punching bag well into the wee hours of the morning.

A muted television.

"Would they still want to be heroes if they knew the goddamned _truth?_ If they knew about the trauma and the nightmares and … and the _guilt_ that just never fuckin' goes away, no matter how many therapy sessions we sit through?"

His hands are shaking. When did they start shaking? He's better than this.

"Are we … are we killing dumb, idiot kids though the glamorization of the lives of pro heroes?"

How many times had he almost died during his three years at UA? How many times had his classmates nearly died? Deku wrecked his bones to the point that one more hit will put him out of commission, and Glasses has had irreparable nerve damage in his arm since first year. Not to mention that one upperclassman who had _lost_ his fucking quirk!

And that was just UA! What about Utsushimi, who had been the victim of a villain attack, knocked out and bound so that bitch Toga could take her place?

Had any of them known what they had signed up for? Would any of them have signed up if they _knew_ what it was they were signing up for at the time?

The answer – of course – is a resounding _yes_ , but even that in itself is troubling.

 _Two naïve young boys, hell-bent on a life of pain and loss and suffering in the name of glory and saving others, who had absolutely no clue that was exactly what was to come._

Ochako reaches across the table and takes one of his hands in her own, lacing their fingers. Katsuki hates admitting weakness, but it's grounding, and he's grateful for it.

She hums thoughtfully. "You have a good point," she says, "but … becoming a hero isn't a decision someone makes lightly. And even if they do, it's like. Hm." She pauses a moment as she tries to find the words. "It's like … becoming an astronaut, back in the old days. Lots of little kids wanted to be astronauts, but only the select few who knew what it took and were willing to do what it took actually _became_ astronauts. The programs were designed to weed everyone out who weren't the best contenders."

She pokes at her cheek with her free hand as she thinks. "The UA entrance exam is hard for a reason," she says, "and you've heard the stories about Aizawa expelling students left and right – the fact that most of our class got through was really unusual. If someone doesn't have what it takes, they're not gonna become a hero. I dunno – I could have made money for my parents any other way, but I still applied to UA. There were … actually several nights that I thought about dropping out, but I didn't."

Ochako meets his eyes and shrugs. "Anyone who becomes a hero wants to put themselves through what we did so that no one else has to."

Katsuki stares back at her, dumbfounded. How … does she always know _exactly_ what to say? She's always so sure of herself, and it's a confidence he wishes he had.

"You're right," he says, steamrolling over a dawning realization he's not ready to process quite yet. He pulls his hand back brusquely, but she merely smiles at him.

"I think I'm about done," she says. "Should we get the check?"

"Let's."

* * *

Another thing that leaving for America in a few short months complicated was the whole living situation thing. They were kicked out of the dorms upon graduation, and as stated before, the last thing Katsuki wanted to do was go live with his parents again. But finding an apartment for that short a time would have been painful, and then he would have had to move out and … it was a mess.

So that's why Ochako offered to let him stay with her until he left. Well, that and the fact that she'd save money on rent with the both of them living there. Katsuki wasn't about to say no – especially when it meant staying out of his parents' house and spending more time with Ochako.

And that's how he ended up here: letting himself back into Ochako's apartment after having gone for his morning run.

The apartment is essentially silent upon his return; the only sounds are the hum of the air conditioning and the rumbling of the refrigerator. After he toes his shoes off at the door, he can hardly hear his own footsteps.

It's barely eight o'clock in the morning and they're both on call, meaning they don't have to go into the office unless there's an incident. Ochako is most likely still sleeping – she's the night owl to Katsuki's morning bird, but they make it work. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but Katsuki's favorite part of his morning routine is taking a few minutes to watch Ochako sleep peacefully, blissfully unaware of the world around her.

It's a nice change to the wild, thrashing nightmares they both get in the middle of the night.

Katsuki putters around the kitchen and makes two cups of coffee, one spicy and one half-weenie half-spicy the way Ochako likes it. Taking a sip from the spicy one, he carries the other into the bedroom.

"Oi, sleepyhead," he calls out, "it's time to wake the fuck up."

Ochako groans and buries her face farther into the pillow. She's tangled up in the sheets, wearing only one of his old t-shirts as nightshirt. Katsuki's heart leaps the way it always does, even after all these months, and he swallows hard against it.

"No 's not," she says petulantly.

"Yes it is."

"I don't hafta go into the office today, so I refuse."

Katsuki rolls his eyes and huffs. "I make coffee, and this is what I fucking get."

Ochako perks up a little bit at that and peers at him out of the corner of her eye. "Ya made coffee?"

"That's what I fuckin' said!"

At last, she rolls over. "Fine," she says, pulling off her sleep mittens. "I'm awake. Ya happy?"

"Extremely," Katsuki says dryly as he hands her the other mug. She takes a few sips before putting it down on the end table and flopping back onto the bed.

She pats the space beside her.

"Fuck off. I'm already up," he protests. "I went for a run – I'm all sweaty."

"And yer sweat smells like burnt sugar 'r whatever," she says. "Come on, neither of us hafta go to our agencies today, can't we jus' take this time n' be lazy?"

Katsuki rolls his eyes, but he's already moving. "Fine," he says, setting his mug down on the other table. He's incredibly weak against those brown eyes and that pleading tone – not to mention that accent he only hears when she's either incredibly upset or incredibly comfortable – and she knows exactly how to use it all against him.

And he – Bakugou 'pissed-at-the-world' Katsuki – can't find it in himself to be upset about being played like a fiddle.

He lies down next to her, and she immediately scooches over to rest her head on his shoulder. His stomach flips as his arm wraps around to stroke her hair. Will he never get used to the fact she wants to be near him?

Apparently not.

She hums contentedly, and Katsuki feels whatever tension he might have been holding melting away. They've both been busy recently, so they haven't been able to find the time for moments like this. It's unfortunate – physical affection is something Katsuki never knew he wanted until he got it, and now it's one of the things he treasures most.

For all his brag about being up and awake, Katsuki finds himself drifting. He slips easily between consciousness and sleep, lulled by the even rhythm of Ochako's breathing.

"I've never lived somewhere as peaceful as it is here," he murmurs in a moment of wakefulness. His house was always a racket, what with both him and his mother living there, and then he lived with nineteen of his classmates in the dorms for three years.

The tranquility almost makes him a little uneasy.

Ochako hums against his shoulder, pressing herself closer into his side. "It's been months an' it's still weird without everyone else around," she says. "There was somethin' comfortin' about knowin' everyone was there. I dunno how well I'd be doin' right now if you weren't here."

She pauses and shifts to look up at him. "Did ya like the noise? Do ya miss it?"

"Yes," he answers without hesitation, "but … I wouldn't want it for my kids." He doesn't meet her eyes, instead staring up at an imperfection in the ceiling. "Looking back, it fucked me up pretty good in the long run."

"You … want kids?"

Of course that's what she'd pick up on. Katsuki shrugs the shoulder she isn't lying on. "I guess I just never thought that I wouldn't," he says. "And, y'know, I kinda wanted to prove I'd do a better fuckin' job than my parents did with me, but I don't know." He hesitates a moment before asking, "You?"

Ochako sighs explosively and slings a leg over his. "I wanted kids when I was younger, but when I got to UA I realized that … I dunno, it's difficult to balance with hero work, especially for women. You probably know Endeavour's the only Top Ten hero in a serious relationship – actually, I think he's the only one in the top twenty – let alone with a family, and we … we know how well that's worked out."

Katsuki winces. Half n' Half's family situation had been somewhat of an open secret by the time they'd graduated, and it … wasn't good. Katsuki supposes – begrudgingly – that if anyone deserves Midoriya Inko as a mother-in-law, he does.

They're not Top Ten yet, but Katsuki has a passing thought that if any couple could survive as a Top Ten hero couple, it'd be fuckin' Deku and Half n' Half.

But …

"What about Mount Lady and Kamui Woods?" he asks. "They're together, right?"

Ochako shakes her head. "It's all rumor. If they are together, they've never made anything official."

"Damn."

They fall silent. Katsuki basks in the feeling of Ochako nestled against his side, her bare legs tangling with his, his fingers running through her hair. The morning light streams in through the window, and it's … serene.

It's perfect.

It's.

It's what he wants.

It's _exactly_ what he wants.

And it's exactly what he can't have.

He's moving to America. He's aiming to be a Top Ten hero. This comfort, this serene tranquility, this _perfection_ has an expiration date. He's letting himself get too comfortable, but god _damn_ does he deserve some happiness in his life before the other shoe drops and it all goes to shit again.

"But hey," Ochako says, jarring him out of his thoughts, "at least it's not somethin' we hafta worry about for a while yet. We're only eighteen, after all."

"Yeah," Katsuki replies. It's not something he has to worry about for a while yet, and until that day he _does_ have to worry about it, he'll take what he can get.

He pulls Ochako closer and presses a reverent kiss to her temple. She hums sleepily and ghosts her lips along his jawline in return. They'll have to get out of bed at some point, but … not yet.

 _Yeah_ , he thinks as he drifts off again.

 _Not yet._

* * *

A/N:

I commissioned strawbit on tumblr to draw the gym scene from the last chapter, and it's SO GOOD:

strawbit. tumblr post /179592099949 /commission-from-karmahope-of-their-really-cute

Thanks for your patience!


	6. She's too much for me

**Limerence**  
(Sunset)

* * *

A heavy knock sounds at the front door, echoing through the relatively quiet apartment.

"Shit," Katsuki curses. He's washing the dishes from that morning, and he's up to the elbows in warm, soapy water. He looks between the kitchen sink and the door. "Ochako, could you get that? It's Eijirou. He's fuckin' early!"

Ochako is already standing up from the couch, where she was reading a book he'd picked up for her a few days ago. "I've got it," she says. "Don't be too upset with him, Katsuki, he's just excited to see you!"

"Dunno why," Katsuki grunts. "I'm not _that_ exciting."

Ochako rolls her eyes at him. "Don't I know it," she teases him in that voice of hers. His chest constricts around his heart, and it takes him a moment to center himself.

Right. Dishes.

"Kirishima!"

"Uraraka!" Eijirou's voice drifts into the apartment. "Dude, it's been far too long!"

"Oh gosh, I know. Come in, come in!"

The door closes, and suddenly Eijirou is _there_ for the first time in months. His hair is tied back in a low bun, strands of crimson hair falling loose around his face. His roots are just starting to show, and Katsuki knows it won't be long before he dyes it again.

It's … strange. He used to live with this man – used to share a wall with him, even – and yet this is only the second time he's been to the apartment.

Their time at UA already seems so far away.

"Katsuki, my man! It's good to see you!"

Katsuki grunts. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be done here in a minute, and then we can go."

"That's fine by me," Eijirou says, pulling Ochako close and ruffling her hair. She laughs. "Gives me time to catch up with Uraraka here."

Katsuki ducks his head to hide a smile. There's something about seeing his best friend and the girl he – well, his girlfriend interact the way they do. He shakes his head as he silently contemplates how he and his perpetual bad attitude had managed to attract the two most sunshine-y people in Class A.

All told, they've done him a world of good.

"Yo, so what happened with that bus debacle?" Eijirou asks Ochako as they take a seat on the couch. "That looked badass!"

"Well," Ochako enthuses, and Katsuki tunes out. He's heard this story before, and so he simply lets the sounds of their voices wash over him.

He's going to miss this.

Scratch that – he already does.

With the last of the dishes set out to dry, Katsuki dries his hands and snags his leather bomber jacket from where he'd draped it over the back of one of the dining chairs last night. He shrugs it on as he crosses the room to the couch where Eijirou and Ochako are still talking animatedly. They turn to him upon hearing his approach.

"Alright loser," he says, "you ready to go?"

"Ready when you are!"

Katsuki hesitates a moment, but leans down over the back of the couch to press a kiss to Ochako's forehead. He doesn't have many more opportunities to show her just how much she means to him, and he'll be damned if he passes any of them up.

"I'll be back later," he says. "Want anything while I'm out?"

Ochako thinks about it, but shakes her head. "I'm good," she says, looking up at him with those brown doe-eyes of hers. She scrunches her nose. "You're wearing that jacket? Katsuki, it's August."

Katsuki shrugs. "Air conditioning is still cold. And if nothing else, you just don't fuckin' understand fashion."

"Right, right," she says, letting the dig slide. "I always forget the heat doesn't bother you like it does everyone else! Okay. Well, I know it's a tall order, but please try to stay out of trouble!"

Eijirou laughs. "Bakugou? Stay out trouble? That's a good one!"

"Hey!" Katsuki protests as they leave. "You _do_ know it was mostly fuckin' Deku always getting into trouble, right?"

Ochako's laughter follows them out the door.

"So," Eijirou says, settling reflective aviators over his face, "wanna dick around the mall for a while and then go to the arcade?"

Katsuki puts his own aviators on, wincing when he realizes he accidentally picked up Ochako's favored pair instead of his own. These ones pinch his temples.

"Sound good to me."

Thirteen's agency isn't far from UA, and thus the apartment isn't either. It doesn't take them long to get to the Kiyashi Ward Shopping Mall. Eijirou shivers as they step inside, and Katsuki knows it's not because of the air conditioning.

"It's still weird, coming back here," Eijirou murmurs, watching the crowd. "I just can't forget that the first time we were here was right before the disaster at the training camp … and that Shigaraki nearly murdered Midoriya and _none_ of us were there to save him."

He pauses. "Wait, no. Uraraka was. But from what I heard, she didn't save him so much as Shigaraki saw her and panicked."

Katsuki barely remembers the shopping mall incident – mostly because he wasn't there, and only heard about it afterward. Then all the other shit happened and, well. The rest was history. He scrambles for something to say, to help Eijirou get over this hurdle set before him, and he snorts.

"As he should have," he says indignantly. "She could've kicked his ass."

Eijirou laughs. "You're not wrong," he says, and he sloughs the weight of the past from his shoulders. "She certainly kicked your ass this year at the Sports Festival!"

Katsuki's not even mad. "She sure did," he agrees. "She sure fuckin' did."

They're not fifteen anymore; tenacious, yet unprepared and terrified. At eighteen and nineteen years old, graduated from UA as part of the most promising hero class to ever grace its halls, Red Riot and Ground Zero are well on their way to becoming two of the best goddamn heroes of all time. A villain would never be able to ambush a friend – though Katsuki still uses that term lightly – and then fuck off without ramifications.

They're stronger than that, now.

The two of them wander the mall for a while. Eijirou gets some new shirts to replace a few he'd accidentally ruined with his quirk, but mostly they just walk. Katsuki window-shops a bit, but anything he buys now is something he'll have to pack when he leaves in a couple days.

He's leaving in just a couple _days_.

Part of him wants to get something for Ochako, to leave her with a parting gift. He won't be here for her birthday, after all … around which time would technically be their anniversary, too.

They won't get to see it.

 _Clean break_ , he reminds himself. They want a clean break – no hard feelings, no lingering expectations. Their time is just … over … and it's time for them both to move on. So he _can't_ get her anything, because any gift he gives her would just tie her to the past. _Their_ past.

And he – god _fucking_ dammit, he wants that! He _wants_ her to wait for him, but she has her own life and he has absolutely zero right to ask her to give it up for him. Four years is a long time.

Four years.

By the time he returns to Japan for more than just a visit, they'll have been apart for longer than they were together at UA. For longer than the entire fucking time he's known her to date.

In a line of work like heroism, neither of them will make it out the other end unscarred. Neither of them will be the same people they are now. Neither of them are the same people they were when they first met at UA.

Which is good! It's good.

But the knowledge that they might not be compatible in four years, even if they want to be?

That's not good. Not good at all.

Which is why a clean break is best, and which is why he can't buy her anything.

He wants to, though. He really, _really_ wants to.

"Bakugou?" Eijirou asks, breaking him out of his reverie. "Are you okay? You've been staring into the window of that jewelry shop for an awful long time."

"Hm?" Katsuki asks, Eijirou's words not quite registering at first. "Oh, yeah. Fucking fantastic." With one last look, he turns on his heel and walks away. "Come on, let's get something to eat. I'm hungry."

* * *

They find the most secluded spot in the food court they can. Being a mall food court, it's really not all that secluded, but nobody's looking their way and so they'll take it. Katsuki usually doesn't mind talking to fans, and he knows Eijirou thrives off it, but today is the last day they'll see each other for a while. Katsuki wants to spend it with Eijirou, not pandering to a bunch of fuckin' extras.

But when Eijirou switches gears from trading stories about work and life to ask the Question, Katsuki starts to wonder if maybe he'd have preferred dealing with the extras.

"So," Eijirou says, taking a bite of one of his fries, "you excited for America?"

If he's being completely honest, this is the _last_ conversation Katsuki wants to be having. It's too personal, which is ridiculous. It shouldn't be! It's a perfectly normal conversation to have with someone going to study abroad, and yet.

And yet.

Somehow it manages to hit each and every one of his vulnerable spots.

He shrugs. "Yeah, I guess," he hedges. "It's a great opportunity – international exposure _and_ a full ride to university? Who else from our class besides me and Half n' Half is going to college?"

"I think Yaoyorozu is doing something part-time," Eijirou says, thinking. "Something to do with materials engineering. But bro –"

Katsuki looks up at Eijirou's sharp tone and meets red, red eyes that read him like a book.

"– That's a line and you know it."

Katsuki freezes, every muscle in his body tightening as he glares down at the table. "What the fuck do you want me to say?" he snaps. "That I wish I hadn't accepted? That I don't want to fucking leave?"

"N-no," Eijirou protests weakly. "I just want you to be honest with me. And yourself."

The food court is loud, but silence stretches between them like molasses. Katsuki wrestles with himself as he tries to formulate words to properly express what he's feeling, but the words just won't come. Does he even know what he's feeling?

He doesn't fucking know.

He sighs heavily after several long moments. Anyone else he would've told to fuck right off, but this is Eijirou. Besides, Eijirou wouldn't listen to him even if he did tell him to fuck off.

"When I accepted All Might's nomination, I thought …"

The words run out. What the fuck _had_ he thought? That he wasn't getting over his insecurities any time soon? That he needed to start over? That life in America would be better than the life he'd fucked up here in Japan? That _running away_ was the only option?

Fuck, he can't just _say_ shit like that.

"I didn't have a reason to stay," he says shortly.

Eijirou stares back at him, disbelief clear on his face. He looks almost _hurt_. "But," he says, "what about us? What about Uraraka?"

Katsuki rolls his eyes, covering his flinch at Ochako's name. "Fucker. You think we won't be friends while I'm abroad? You wouldn't _let_ that happen. Besides, we'll have hero salaries, and it's not like airplanes don't exist."

He despises flying, but he'll happily cover part of the cost if Eijirou wants to come visit.

Eijirou raises his eyebrows. "And Uraraka?"

They've been apart for so long, Katsuki had almost forgotten how annoyingly persistent Eijirou can be when he sets his mind to it. He supposes he can't complain too much – it's really the only reason why they're friends.

He doesn't meet Eijirou's eyes. He can't. He props his cheek against his knuckles, elbow on the table, and stares off across the food court.

"I wasn't going to have her," he says with a certain sense of finality. "I wasn't _supposed_ to have her. I was gonna keep my stupid fucking mouth shut for once in my goddamned life and get over it. But then she fell, and I fucked up, and for some reason she wanted to give it a shot after I ignored her for _weeks_. And I – selfishly – took what I could get."

Of course the words come to him now. Great. Just perfect.

"I … wouldn't call that selfish, exactly …"

"Eijirou." He doesn't usually use Eijirou's given name in public, but it feels appropriate for this conversation. "I'm leaving in a couple days. I'm leaving her alone!"

"And she knew exactly what she was getting into when she told you how she felt!" Eijirou cries. "Katsuki, you couldn't have _possibly_ made that decision for her."

Katsuki sits up and runs a hand back through his hair. "You're right," he admits. "You usually are. That … would've been even shittier of me. But –"

"But?"

He sighs, exasperated. "Come on, Ei. Ochako … she deserves, fuckin', _everything_. Romance, support, the whole shebang. And I'm … me. You know how I am. You _know_ she can do so much better."

"Katsuki," Eijirou snaps with a bite in his voice Katsuki rarely hears, "cut that shit out. You keep forgetting you're not the same guy you were in first year! I saw you with Uraraka this morning, and that was … hell, Katsuki, who cares if you think she could do better? She was one of the most level-headed girls in our class, and she chose you!"

"All of the girls in our class were level-headed," Katsuki says dryly. "You know they all took that shit far more seriously than some of the guys ever did." He sighs. "Well, it's not like it matters now."

"You're not trying the long distance thing like Midoriya is with Todoroki?"

Katsuki smiles, but it's hollow. Empty. He shakes his head ruefully. "We talked about it, but four years is a long time. We wouldn't survive the distance."

He traces some of the condensation left on his drink. That hadn't been a fun conversation. It helped that they'd both been on the same page going in, but saying aloud what they both knew to be true made things _real_.

The truth is, he and Ochako fight a lot. Katsuki may have mellowed out over the years, but he's still hotheaded and confrontational as hell. The slightest things still set him off on occasion, and it's led to full-on screaming matches about the most mundane shit. It's not even like he _means_ to yell, he just … loses his temper.

He's always been explosive, with a short fuse to match, and he doesn't want to make any fucking excuses for it. Excuses aside, though, that's just how he is.

His temper would have driven anyone else away within the first two weeks, but Ochako is Ochako, and she has a stubborn streak wider than his temper is long. She digs her heels in, stands toe-to-toe with him, and yells right back.

It thrills him.

It thrills her as well.

That said, she's quick to make it incredibly clear when he crosses a line he shouldn't have crossed. When she shuts down and refuses to engage with him no matter how hard he tries to draw her in, that's when he knows he fucked up. It's only happened a handful of times, and each time it's forced him to take a step back and calm down enough to have a proper conversation.

Katsuki doesn't know how she does it. He also doesn't know if he'll ever find anyone who can read him as well as she can. If he'll find anyone with the same stubborn streak and the _incredible_ amount of patience he knows it takes to put up with him for any length of time.

But … that's beside the point.

The _point_ is that unfortunately, physical contact is a huge part of bringing them back together after their blowouts. Without that connection drawing them back to each other, assuaging hard feelings and reaffirming what they mean to each other … it wouldn't be long before those blowouts blew them apart.

"That … sucks, dude," Eijirou says. "I'm sorry."

Katsuki shrugs and pulls himself together. "It is what it is," he says. "You're right. We knew what we were getting into."

"Doesn't make it suck any less."

Well, Eijirou has a point there.

"You wanna go blast some things at the arcade?" Eijirou asks.

A corner of Katsuki's mouth twists up into something resembling a smile. There's a reason Eijirou is his best friend. The other man might push him when he doesn't want to be pushed, but he also knows when to back off and how to make him feel better.

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

The next day brings the one thing Katsuki has been dreading the second-most.

The press conference.

"I don't see why we have to do this fucking thing," Katsuki grumbles, pulling at the collar of his shirt. "We're going to America. End of story."

Half n' Half snorts. Katsuki hasn't seen the guy in person since they graduated, though he's been splashed all over the news just like the rest of them. The intervening months have been kind to him – his hair is longer, and he's pulled his bangs back with the rest of it in a way he never did in high school.

He oozes a sickeningly calm, collected confidence. Is he not bothered by the fact he'll be leaving his entire life behind in only a couple days? Is he really so at peace with himself about the decision to go through with this that he has no regrets?

And if he is, why can't Katsuki achieve that same peace of mind?

"It's 'cause we're part of the 'Golden Year,'" Half n' Half says dryly. "Bakugou Katsuki, who had to be chained up at the first year Sports Festival, and Todoroki Shouto, son of the number one hero. They're all _clamoring_ to get a piece of us."

"I'm keeping all of myself," Katsuki grumbles, "thank you very much."

But that isn't true, is it? Ochako has a part of him. She's had a part of him since the day she wiped the arena floor with his ass. Was it first year or third year? It doesn't matter – not anymore.

"Shouto!"

Is that? Katsuki turns. It is.

"What the fuck, Deku?" he asks. "The fuck are you doing here?"

Deku isn't … isn't going abroad with them, is he?

"I had the day off, so I came to support Shouto!" Deku chirps, sidling up to Half n' Half. "And you too, of course, Kacchan! Are you excited?"

Katsuki opens his mouth to respond, but closes it just as quickly. There's nothing he can say that won't come out bitter; that won't come out closer to the truth than he's willing to admit.

"Kacchan?"

Something cracks in his chest at the sound of Deku's fucking concern. He doesn't want _concern_. He doesn't want _pity_. He just wants to be left the fuck alone. To be left the fuck alone _with Ochako_. He wants Ochako to be here with him, but she's not and she won't be.

Katsuki is about two seconds away from either exploding or crying – it's a fifty-fifty shot at this point. Before he can find out which way he'll fall, All Might calls their names.

"They're ready for you, boys," he says. "Remember, you don't owe them anything, but don't give them anything to latch onto either." He shudders – it's obvious he's speaking from personal experience.

"Young Midoriya, my boy, there's a seat reserved for you in the audience. I suggest you head there now."

"Yes, sir!" Deku says, bowing. He turns and presses a quick kiss to Half n' Half's cheek. "I'll see you later," he says, and then he's gone.

It's fine. Katsuki will see Ochako when he gets home. It's all fine.

It's fine.  
It's all fine.

All Might leads them out to the table. Katsuki steps into the open and immediately squints against the light of dozens of flashbulbs erupting in his face. There are _hordes_ of reporters crammed in front of them. Surely he and Half n' Half aren't _that_ exciting – they're not even full pros yet! Hell, they only graduated a couple months ago! His shoulders tense beneath his collared shirt. His tie – properly tied by Ochako earlier that morning – lies like a noose around his neck.

It's fine.  
It's all fine.

Half n' Half's words come back to him. _Golden Year._ That's what the kid called them too, wasn't it? Katsuki's still thinking as he takes his seat. As ready as he is to get away from Japan and everything it stands for, it's nice to have that unbreakable thread tying him back to his old classmates.

Not that he'd ever admit it.

He's part of the Golden Year. He'll be part of the Golden Year while he's in America, and he'll be part of the Golden Year when he returns.

It's a thread that will keep him tethered.

"Ground Zero! Centigrade!" The first reporter cries their names, drawing Katsuki's attention. "You leave for America in two days – What are you most looking forward to about it?"

Now, Katsuki is no stranger to speaking in front of crowds. He gave the opening address at the Sports Festival his first year. They had a public speaking class at UA. Since graduating, he's addressed crowds of civilians and on-site reporters without so much as a flinch.

The crowd swims before him. Distantly, he hears Half n' Half saying something about university and new experiences and the historical relevance of America to heroism. It's a good response. A polished response.

Katsuki scrambles to think of something to say.

What is most looking forward to about it?

He isn't looking forward to it at all.

Half n' Half falls silent, and expectant eyes fall to him. His eyes in turn search for Ochako in the crowd, but she's not here.

It's fine.  
It's all fine.

"I'm looking forward to experiencing what it means to be a hero in another culture," he croaks, though his voice stays remarkably level, "and furthering my education."

It's a textbook answer at best, but an answer nonetheless. When it becomes evident he'll say nothing more on the subject, another reporter is quick to fill the silence.

"What prompted you to accept All Might's nomination?" she asks. "Question for both Ground Zero and Centigrade."

Katsuki tugs at his tie in an attempt to relieve the constricting sensation. Beside him, Half n' Half shifts his weight uneasily. Katsuki isn't privy to the other man's secrets, but he's gathered enough over the years to know this is a question he wants to answer about as much as Katsuki does.

Which is to say, not at all.

"I think," Katsuki says, "that I speak for the both of us when I say, 'because it's fu- because it's All Might.'"

Half n' Half nods solemnly beside him. "All Might has cited his experience abroad as instrumental in his development several times over the years. It would have been foolish to turn down such an opportunity."

That won't satisfy the reporters either, but to hell with them.

"For both Ground Zero and Centigrade, again. How does it feel to follow in All Might's footsteps?" is the immediate follow-up question. "Do you think you'll be able to live up to his legacy?"

"Hey," All Might chides playfully, butting in for the first time. "I'm not dead yet."

"No, but you came pretty fuckin' close," Katsuki mutters, leaning too far back for the mic to pick it up. He knows this all too well – he was there, after all.

It's fine.  
It's all fine.

"I don't think anyone can live up to All Might's legacy," Half n' Half says frankly. The reporters murmur amongst themselves in surprise, but he continues as if unbothered. "I don't think we're meant to. I think we're all supposed to forge our own legacies, so that's what I'll do."

Half n' Half isn't wrong, but he isn't right either, Katsuki thinks. If anyone is going to live up to All Might's legacy, it's fucking Deku. After all, he was hand-picked to be All Might's successor. All the same, he supposes, Deku will never _be_ All Might. He'll be Deku, the one who came after All Might.

Maybe Half n' Half _is_ right.

"Don't get me wrong," Katsuki says when he realizes Half n' Half has stopped speaking, "I'm going to be the number one hero in Japan, but I'll never be All Might."

All too late, he realizes his mistake.

"Ground Zero, you say you're going to be the number one hero in Japan, but you're leaving for America for four years! How is that going to help you reach your goal? Wouldn't it be best to stay in Japan?"

Yeah, he fucking walked right into that one. Katsuki sighs. He's been asking himself the same goddamn question for months now, but they can't know that.

"All Might studied abroad for four years and still became the number one hero in Japan," he points out instead.

"Our peers will still be working as sidekicks for a couple years yet and thus won't be eligible for the hero rankings for some time," Half n' Half says, and any other time Katsuki would've been upset with him for presuming he needed the rescue. Any other time. "Studying abroad will not set us any farther back than staying in Japan would."

"Centigrade," someone else calls, "speaking of your peers, I saw Deku in the crowd earlier – how is your decision to go abroad going to affect your relationship?"

Katsuki watches Half n' Half for some sort of response, but he doesn't even flinch. "It isn't," he says coolly. "Deku and I are confident in our ability to maintain a long distance relationship, and will remain together while I'm in America. That is all I will say on the matter, so please don't ask any further questions."

It's a well-rehearsed line, but Katsuki has no doubt that every word of it is true; after all, Deku and Half n' Half are calm, placid waters, unmoved by the storm brewing around them. They're a red sky in the evening, and it's fading to the dark comfort of a cool midnight – a midnight which holds promise of the dawn ahead.

It's fine.  
It's all fine.

"Ground Zero, if Deku is here to support Centigrade, where is Uravity? Does she not support your decision to go abroad?"

It's.  
It's not fine.

Katsuki's heart skips several beats in a row as panic floods his system. He should have expected this question as soon as he saw Deku with Todoroki. He _did_ expect it, and yet he's still caught off guard. He clenches a fist under the table as he struggles to get a grip on his emotions. Is he angry? Is he sad? He doesn't know.

He just _is_ , and that's … that's not enough.

He just _is_ , and that's … that's too much.

"If you'd bothered to check the _real_ news this morning," he growls past the noose tightening around his neck, "you'd see she's fucking _working_ , cause she's a goddamned hero. Not that it actually _matters_ to you fucks, but she fully supports my decision to go abroad and become the best person – and hero – I can be."

He almost wishes she didn't support it. It wouldn't change his decision, but it would certainly make leaving her a whole hell of a lot easier. Alas, she was the first person he told about All Might's nomination, and she knew what she was getting into at the start of their relationship. She's been prepared for this eventuality.

He hasn't been.

"How will that decision affect your relationship?"

"No fucking comment," he bites. They're pouring salt in his wounds, and he's had enough of it. "We've discussed it and come to an agreement, but that's between me and her and the rest of you can fuck right off."

"Young Bakugou," All Might murmurs, but Katsuki shrugs him off. He just wants to get the rest of this press conference over with. He knows he fucked up – his outburst will be a stain on his record for years to come – but at least he's leaving the country in short order. The media can't give him _too_ much shit about it in the little time he has left.

It's fine.  
It's all fine.

Aizawa stands to call the press conference back under control, but Katsuki pays him no mind – indeed, his mind is elsewhere. Deku and Half n' Half might be calm waters, a sanguine evening, a peaceful midnight with the promise of dawn, but him and Ochako?

They're the waves caught in the squall, frothy and turbulent. They're a red sky in the morning, and it's burning away to the blinding brightness of a blazing noon. The sun is at its zenith, and all it can do now?

Well, all it can do now is set.

* * *

His last days in Japan pass as quickly as they come. He sees his parents, but he spends most of the time with Ochako. She surprises him by taking the days off work, and while they argue at first about her having done so, Katsuki can't believe she'd actually do that for him.

His heart aches. This woman genuinely wants to spend time with him, to be with him, to go out of her way for him – and he's throwing it all away.

Packing up his entire post-graduation life takes only a couple hours. He didn't move much into Ochako's apartment in the first place with the knowledge he'd have to do exactly this, but the fact that their entire life together fits into two neat black suitcase that now wait by the front door doesn't sit well with him.

It's the beginning of an end, and Katsuki wishes he could pack his feelings away as neatly as he did his belongings.

Instead, he sighs and casts an eye around the bedroom. His drawers have been emptied. One half of the closet is bare. He has a single outfit laid out for the morning.

It taunts him.

Katsuki leaves the bedroom, pulling the door to behind him with a soft _snick_. Ochako isn't in the living area or the kitchen, and the entire apartment is hauntingly silent. It's not empty, but the promise of emptiness lies between the hum of the air conditioning and the rumbling of the refrigerator.

Soon, the emptiness will be Ochako's only constant companionship.

A breath of fresh summer air caresses his face, and Katsuki turns to see the balcony door propped open. He catches a wisp of brown hair beyond it. Crossing the apartment, he leans against the doorway and folds his arms.

Ochako stands out on the balcony, her elbows braced against the railing. The hem of her sundress flutters in the evening breeze; the ends of her chestnut hair flutter along with it. She's ignorant of his presence as she stares out over the city – the city she helps to protect. The city he's leaving behind.

Not for the first time, her natural beauty threatens to take his breath away. She's majestic – a guardian angel, untouchable and peerless as she watches over the city. The sun is starting to set behind her, and her silhouette is one Katsuki wishes he could gaze upon for years to come.

But he only has hours to go.

"I know you're there," Ochako says at long last. She looks back over her shoulder and smiles. "Have you finished packing?"

Katsuki swallows hard. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah I have." He pauses as he debates his next words. "Look, about earlier –"

Ochako cuts him off with a shake of her head. "Don't worry about it," she says. "I know how hard this has been for you. There's nothing you need to apologize for."

She tried to help him pack earlier, but he snapped at her one more time than she was willing to put up with. She'd left the bedroom without another word, and he hadn't seen her since.

"Have you been out here the entire time?" he asks, pushing off of the doorframe. He joins her at the balcony rail, and she nods as she stares off into the distance.

"It's a beautiful night," she says by way of response.

Katsuki never would have taken the time to appreciate the sunset on his own, but now, beside her, he gazes up at the purples and pinks and oranges painted across the sky and has to agree. It reminds him of her, although for what reason, he doesn't fuckin' know.

Ochako opens her mouth as if to say something, but closes it again after a long moment. She shakes her head, and Katsuki wishes he could know what she's thinking. He almost asks, but … some things are best left unsaid.

"I bet the sunsets are just as beautiful in California," she says after another minute.

Katsuki only nods in acknowledgement.

Time is slipping away from them. The sun sinks lower in the sky with every moment that passes, and yet they're fucking … standing here, trading awkward small talk like they've only just started dating. Is this … is this what it all comes down to? The best eight months of his entire fucking life, culminating in, what? Nothing?

She's slipping away from him, and he's not ready to let go.

"Ochako," he says, grabbing her hand and turning towards her, "I –"

A pink-padded finger settles against his lips, cutting him off. He stares down at her. The breeze has teased her gravity-defying brown hair into disarray, and goddammit, even now she's still so infuriatingly _perfect_.

She meets his gaze with melancholy eyes, a crease in her brow and a bittersweet smile on her lips. "Katsuki, don't," she says. "Don't make this any harder on us than it has to be."

"But –"

"I know."

The finger lifts from his lips, and her hand rises to caress his cheek. The pads of four fingers drift along his skin, and the tenderness is everything he's never felt he deserved. Almost instinctively, he turns his face into her palm.

"Katsuki." Her voice breaks as she says his name again, and her eyes glisten in the watercolor sunlight. "You're going to be amazing. This opportunity was _made_ for you, and I'm so, so proud of you and everything you're going to do. Of everything you have done."

She pauses a moment and scrunches her nose. "Well, except maybe cursing out those reporters," she says through a watery smile. "I probably shouldn't be proud of you for that."

There's so much Katsuki wants to say. He wants to tell her how proud of her he is, for everything – no exceptions. He wants to tell her just how much she means to him and how much she'll continue to mean to him even after he's gone. He wants to thank her for never giving up on him, for challenging him when he needed to be challenged, for not taking all of his fucking bullshit, for inspiring him to be a better human being and a better hero.

He wants her to know that she'll never come second to anyone for as long as she lives, and that if anyone makes her believe otherwise then they're not worth her time, let alone her attention.

But all that comes out of his fucking traitor mouth is:

"Which time?"

Startled, Ochako laughs through the tears streaming freely down her face. Katsuki reaches up to cup her cheeks, wiping the saltwater away with his thumbs. He's still not used to it: these hands, so destructive in nature, being used for something so gentle.

Before her, he didn't know they _could_ be gentle. He doesn't think anyone else did, either.

Well, he proved them all fucking wrong in the end, didn't he?

"Katsuki," Ochako says again.

Katsuki's lips meet hers, and there are no more words spoken between them. She's warmth and comfort and sadness and sweetness and _strength_ all wrapped up in his arms and he never wants to let go.

So he doesn't.

And if some of the salt they taste that night are his own tears, well. That's their secret, and no one else ever has to know.

* * *

He wakes at the crack of dawn the next morning.

Ochako's limbs are heavy across his, and it's with great care that he extricates himself from beneath her. She stirs, and he worries he's woken her, but it's far too early and she simply pulls the covers to her chin as she turns over.

He wants to wake her. Wants to say goodbye. Wants …

He wants.

But they said their goodbyes last night, and they agreed it'd be easier on both of them if he left while she still slumbered, and he'll – he'll respect that.

He showers, and if he uses her soap and shampoo, it's such a small amount that she surely won't miss it. Dressed in the clothes he laid out the night before, he steps out of her bedroom for the last time.

The last time.

He packs the last of his things in one of the neat black suitcases, the zipper rattling like a machine gun in the silence of the morning. That done, he stands in their – no, Ochako's – no, Ura … _Uraraka's_ apartment for a moment longer.

This was the homeliest home he's ever known, but everyone leaves home in the end.

His fingers toy with a small scrap of paper he'd hidden in one of the suitcases the evening before. He wants to leave the note. He wants to ask Ocha- _Uraraka_ to wait for him. He wants to leave something of himself behind. He wants to be remembered.

He wants.  
He wants.  
He wants.

 _Clean break._

With a heavy sigh, he tucks the slip of paper into the pocket of his leather bomber jacket. Grabbing the suitcases, he hauls his life out of Uraraka's.

He locks the door behind him and slides the key back beneath it. It's done. This chapter of his life is closed, and it's time for the next one. There's no point in looking back, it's only what's forward that matters.

This is the way his world ends.  
This is the way his world ends.  
This is the way his world ends.

But there's a new one ahead of him.

Stepping out beneath a crimson sunrise, he starts walking.


	7. But I keep comin' back for more

**Limerence  
** (Memories)

* * *

If there's one thing Katsuki hates more than cold, it's rain.

When it's cold out, Katsuki can bundle up in layer after layer, insulating himself against the quirk-deadening temperatures. It's annoying, sure. He hates having to work harder to access something that has always been a part of him. But it _works_.

When it rains, however, there's nothing he can do. The water sluices down the back of his neck and over his clothes, tiny streams dripping from his fingers when he holds his palms just so. Any sweat he generates is immediately washed away, leaving him drenched and effectively powerless.

The gloves of his hero costume help to negate the rain's effects, but he's not wearing his costume right now.

And he forgot an umbrella.

Fuck him.

Katsuki kicks at a stray pebble on the sidewalk. Hands in his pockets, sweatshirt hood up and shoulders drawn in against the rain, he trudges home from his chemistry lab. It's late. The sun is setting, although the dimming light is the only indication due to the heavy grey cloud cover overhead. Katsuki sighs.

California is, at the same time, both everything he expected and not at all what he expected. The first few weeks were rough as he settled in and adjusted to hearing English as the predominant language around him. He lost his temper several times those first weeks. Half n' Half offhandedly remarked it was like seeing first-year Katsuki again, which promptly spurred Katsuki into attempting to get his shit together.

It was hard. It _is_ hard. He's still having trouble.

The one person who could help him most is the one person he absolutely cannot talk to.

He pushes the thought away and kicks at another pebble a little harder than the first. It flies away from his toe and dings a passing car. Katsuki winces. The car whooshes past, its driver entirely unaware of what transpired.

But that's life isn't it? Everyone is a pebble in the stream. They're all tiny and insignificant in their own way, their edges worn down by the eddies and currents and turbulence they're subjected to. While they might start in one place, more often than not they end up in another place altogether farther downstream.

Moving back upstream just isn't done.

Thankfully, Katsuki arrives at his apartment not long after that. It's one of the perks of heroing – the salary is high enough that he could afford an apartment close to both the university and the agency. He wipes his feet against the complex's entrance mat for all the good it does him. He's still sopping wet by the time he unlocks the door to his unit.

"I'm home," he calls, removing his shoes.

"And why should I care?" his roommate calls back, his voice muffled but as deadpan as ever.

If someone told Katsuki three years ago he would one day willingly share an apartment with Half n' Half, he probably would have exploded their face. Even now, he can't believe he's rooming with fucking Deku's boyfriend. Alas, they both needed an apartment. They had experience living together in the dorms. They both spoke Japanese. It made sense.

On a good day, Katsuki would grudgingly admit that Half n' Half was actually a decent roommate. He was quiet and kept to himself most of the time. If it weren't for the fact they let each other know when they're home, Katsuki would never know there was someone else in the apartment most of the time.

If pressed, he might even admit that it's nice, having a piece of home with him.

He would _never_ admit that Half n' Half's no-nonsense attitude was exactly what he needed to get him through the first few weeks.

But that's neither here nor there.

"You shouldn't," Katsuki barks, stalking across the tiny living room. Despite his best effort, he drips. He'll have to clean that up later. That's another nice thing about living with Half n' Half – they're both neat freaks.

He accidentally slams his bedroom door behind him. Oh well, Half n' Half can deal. First order of business: changing out of his wet fucking clothes. Only then will he be able to focus on … literally anything else.

Grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, Katsuki changes in his bathroom. He leaves his drenched clothing to languish in his bathtub. He'll deal with that later.

He towels off his hair and steps out of the bathroom. Surveying his bedroom, he sighs heavily. He's lived here for nearly a month now, and yet the suitcases remain strewn across his floor as if he'd just moved in yesterday. They're both half-empty at this point, so that should theoretically make unpacking the rest go a lot faster, but he just … hasn't been able to bring himself to do it.

It hasn't been necessary, and the bare minimum is about all he's been able to do recently. He attends class and does his homework and puts his all into his internship, but beyond that?

He hasn't even been able to _cook._

But he needs to get his bags unpacked. He can't stand the thought of one more pitying look from Half n' Half the next time the other man pokes his head in to ask him a question, and so it has to be done.

Thunder rumbles outside his window. Rain patters against the panes. What better day to do a dull, mundane task like unpacking than a day like today?

Taking a deep breath, Katsuki toes the first of the suitcases open. He can do this. It's just unpacking.

"It's just unpacking," he snorts. "Yeah, right."

Unpacking means he's accepted this is his life for the next few years. Unpacking means he's settled in and ready to stay. Unpacking means that _this_ is his apartment, and _hers_ … isn't.

But while _her_ apartment felt like home, this one … this one lacks any and all of that personality and comfort. It still feels temporary, more like a hotel room than a home. Somewhere only to sleep, a liminal space like none other.

Maybe unpacking will help dissipate some of that feeling.

Katsuki grabs a handful of clothing out of the suitcase. Even though he's been in California for three weeks now, most of his clothes still haven't been unpacked. He wore what he needed out of the suitcase the first week, and he's just done laundry since then. An extra pair of pants or sweatshirt may have joined the original weeks' worth of clothing as the weather changed, but that's it.

He tosses that handful into the correct drawers and goes back for more. It's tedious and mundane and the last thing he wants to be doing right now – in all honesty all he wants to do is crash into bed – but he _needs_ to get this done.

If he does it now, he won't have to do it later.

Memories creep back, unbidden, as he goes through his clothing. He tries not to think about them, tries to ignore them, but they won't be ignored. This is the shirt he was wearing when he was kidnapped by the League. This is the tank top he wore when he fought Deku in their first year. This is … this is the one he wore the night Ocha– Uraraka ambushed him in gym Zeta, and this is the one he wore on their first official date.

He stuffs them into their respective drawers all the same. They're _shirts_ , and that's all. What would fuckin' Half n' Half say if he knew Katsuki was getting overly emotional about _fabric?_

Well, actually, Half n' Half probably wouldn't say anything. He'd just give Katsuki that pitying gaze that pisses Katsuki off so bad. For god's sake, he isn't _broken!_ He's doing just fucking fine. Half n' Half can fuck off and stop worrying so much.

Not that Eijirou's been much fucking better. Katsuki left his last "how are you doing?" text from a couple days ago on read. He'll text Eijirou back soon, but about something entirely different. He appreciates Eijirou's concern – really he does – but he doesn't need to be _babied_.

Really. He's fine.

It's fine.

It's all fine.

Katsuki packs his stuff away slowly and methodically. Half n' Half knocks on his door sometime in the middle of it.

"What do you want?" Katsuki barks.

"I'm going out with Rosetta and a few others in a bit," Half n' Half says through the door. After a moment's pause he adds, "Do you want to come?"

With a pair of socks in hand, Katsuki sighs as he looks down at his suitcases. Sure, unpacking is the last thing he wants to be doing right now, but going out and socializing sounds worse. He's exhausted – he knows he won't be good company.

"No," Katsuki bites, squeezing his socks as if they're a stress ball. Something compels him to add, "Sorry. Another night."

"That's what you always say," Half n' Half says, his voice muffled by the door. "Staying in every night won't help you adjust."

God, could Half n' Half get any more annoying? "Yeah, well. Whatever. Fuck off, have fun, don't cheat on Deku, all that good shit."

Katsuki can't see the other man, but he's sure Half n' Half rolls his eyes. That's what he always does. Katsuki waits for a response, but none comes. He sighs loudly.

He _should_ go out. He really should. He just doesn't want to.

Tossing the socks into a drawer, he turns and reaches for yet another black shirt. It's soft and faded, a contrast against some of his newer black shirts, but he thinks nothing of it. He pulls it out of the suitcase. Its faded, cracked skull print stares back at him and–

–and he's no longer standing in this cold, soulless California room.

He's in a much homelier bedroom, halfway across the world and a month long since passed. Golden sunlight peeks in through an open window, casting luminescent shadows across rumpled sheets, pale skin and chestnut hair. Katsuki stands in the doorway, just returned from his morning run, it's all he can do to stare.

The girl in bed stirs, rubbing her eyes and face with mittened hands as she forces herself into wakefulness. She blinks, eyelids heavy with sleep, and a lazy grin stretches across her face as her bleary gaze settles upon him. He smiles back at her, his heart as rich and warm and full as the morning sunshine.

"You're back already?" she asks through a yawn. "But 's only" – she glances over at the bedside alarm clock and laughs. "Never mind. How was the run?"

"Same as fuckin' ever," he says. "I took a longer route this morning. I wanted to, y'know."

"See the city one more time," she finishes for him. "I get it." She yawns again. "But now you've seen the city, sooo…" She makes little grabby motions toward him, realizes she's still wearing her mittens, takes them off, and makes more little grabby motions.

Katsuki laughs as he approaches the bed. "I haven't fuckin' showered yet," he tells her. "I'm still all sweaty."

She scrunches her nose at him. "Oh whatta hardship," she says. "Yer sweat smells like burnt sugar."

He stands beside her, reaching out to card his fingers through her hair. Her eyes flutter shut as she leans into the touch, humming contentedly. He brushes a thumb across her cheek and she sighs. Opening her eyes, she grins.

She grabs his wrist, activates her quirk, and wrenches her body sideways. Three seconds later, he's on his back against the mattress and she's got him pinned with her bare thighs.

It takes him a moment to catch his breath; she's only wearing his old shirt and it's getting to him. She knows it, too. She hovers over him, her hair tickling his cheeks. He blows at it and she giggles.

"So this is how we're playing it this morning?" he finally asks, a sly grin creeping over his face.

"This is how we're playin' it," she says with that unmatched confidence of hers. "You gotta problem wi' tha'?"

He wiggles beneath her, and she squeaks before flushing bright red. "Not at all," he says primly.

"Oh shaddup," she says, and then she's kissing him like nothing else matters.

Katsuki falls to his knees, his old t-shirt clenched in both of his hands as he stares down at it. He's long since grown out of it, but _she_ … _she_ liked to use it as a nightshirt. It lived in her drawers more frequently than it did his. How did it end up in his suitcase?

She must have snuck it in after he'd fallen asleep that last night, burying it deep so he wouldn't find it until it was too late. Which meant … she didn't want it. She didn't want the reminder of _him_ , of their time together. It's understandable, but it still fucking _hurts_.

There on the floor of his empty California bedroom, as the rain pounds his window and the thunder rumbles overhead, he cries.

He cries like he's never cried before. Violent sobs rack his frame as he lets loose everything he's suppressed this last month. He's distantly grateful for the fact Half n' Half is gone; he couldn't keep himself quiet if he tried.

He buries his face in the old shirt as he mourns everything that is, that was, and that ever could have been. He misses her. He misses her spark, her fire, her sweetness. He misses her softness at home, her hardness in battle. He misses how she always _got_ him, even when he didn't fully understand himself.

But it's gone. It's all gone.

She's gone, and knowing her, she's probably doing just fucking fine. She wouldn't let something like this get her down for too long. She went into their relationship knowing it was temporary. She still has her life, her friends, her job and her apartment and her determination.

And here he is, crying alone on the floor of his empty apartment while Half n' Half is out with friends Katsuki hasn't bothered to make. He has an old tear-stained t-shirt, a suitcase that still isn't fully unpacked, and memories he wishes he could forget.

He'll never be able to forget.

Katsuki doesn't know how long he sits there, but the tears eventually subside. He draws a shaky breath and wipes his eyes. He feels … well, he doesn't really know how he feels. A little better, maybe? He dares to hope. If nothing else, there's a sense of internal calm that wasn't there before, but that might just be exhaustion.

He forces himself to his feet and throws the t-shirt into the depths of his closet. Where it lands, he doesn't know. He doesn't care. One of his suitcases is still only half-unpacked, but he doesn't care about that either.

He crawls into bed and falls asleep to the sounds of the storm outside.

* * *

Double majoring in chemistry and mechanical engineering while at the same time working as a hero is _hard_. Once his classes pick up, Katsuki has little time for anything other than school, homework, and his job. It suits him just fine; three months into his time in America, he still hasn't made a whole lot of friends.

It's not surprising, and it's all his own goddamn fault, really. His prickly nature and standoffish attitude wasn't particularly conducive to making friends with people he didn't see nearly twenty-four hours a day. When he does go out, it's because Todoroki drags him, but then the people there are really _Todoroki's_ friends, and Katsuki just ends up feeling uncomfortable.

He talks with Rosetta sometimes when he's at the office. She's also more Todoroki's friend than his, but her quirk allows her to speak fluent Japanese, which at least makes socializing _easier_. She reminds him of Deku sometimes with her enthusiasm for heroes. Her interests lie in foreign heroes; he soon learns she started following his class after their first-year Sports Festival.

It gives them something to talk about, at least. If he clams up when she brings up … certain people, she pretends not to notice.

Okay, so maybe he's made one kinda-sorta friend. He should tell Eijirou. He'd be proud. Either way, it doesn't change the fact he doesn't have much time to socialize anyway.

It's a Friday night, and he's sitting at his desk racking his brains over an assignment for his physics class. Physics had never been his strong suit. It was much more Och– Uraraka's thing. She took a college class in their second year at UA in order to better understand how to manipulate her quirk.

If they were still talking, she could help him with this. Katsuki pushes the thought from his brain. He doesn't _need_ help. He can figure this out all on his own, thank you.

Just then, Todoroki knocks on his door.

"What is it?" Katsuki demands, exasperated.

"Just letting you know I'll be making dinner and calling Izuku," Todoroki says. "Figured you'd appreciate the heads up."

"Doesn't matter to me," Katsuki grumbles, digging his pencil deeper into the paper than maybe he needs to. "Do whatever the fuck you want."

Todoroki doesn't reply, and Katsuki returns to his physics assignment. He has chemistry to do after this as well, but that shouldn't take him nearly as long.

And it doesn't.

That said, it's nine o'clock by the time he finishes the assignments that are due tonight at midnight. He knows he shouldn't have left them this late, but it just kinda … happened. He's doing better, but things still slip through his fingers more often than they used to. It's frustrating, but he makes it work.

His stomach growls, and he remembers he hasn't eaten since lunch, which was hours ago. Does he feel like cooking anything? He hedges. Not really, but he has some leftovers from dinner last night. Those will do. He'll cook tomorrow night.

Todoroki sits at the small kitchen table when Katsuki emerges, still on what looks like a video call with Deku. It's been a couple hours at this point, Katsuki thinks as he pulls his leftovers from the refrigerator. He wishes–

No.

He's not going to let himself go there.

"Is that Kacchan?" Deku asks, his voice tinny through the speakers. "Hi, Kacchan!"

Katsuki steps into frame long enough to flip Deku the bird. "Fuck off," he says without any real heat. "You're not talking to me, you're talking to your fucking boyfriend."

Deku looks well, Katsuki notes absently. He must have gotten a haircut recently, though his curly green hair refuses to accept that fact. It always has.

Deku rolls his eyes. "I've been talking to Shouto for _hours_ ," he says. "I haven't even gotten a text from you!"

Katsuki raises a disbelieving eyebrow. "Were you _expecting_ one?" he asks.

"Well, no," Deku says. "But still!"

Katsuki opens his mouth to say something – he hasn't quite figured out what yet – but Deku looks up sharply, turning to something off-screen. A look of horror washes across his face, and Katsuki wonders what exactly could have prompted that reaction.

He doesn't have to wonder long.

"Izuku," a once-familiar voice calls, distance-faint and distorted, "I'm home!"

Katsuki freezes. His heart stops. His lungs stop. Every muscle in his body tenses. He knows that voice. _Knew_ that voice. What's _she_ doing here?

The words ring in his head. _Izuku, I'm home. Izuku, I'm home. Izuku. IZUKU. I'm home. Home. Home home home …_

"Ochako!" Deku yelps. Even in his current state, Katsuki notices the panicked look Deku shares with Todoroki. "I wasn't expecting you home this early!"

 _Ochako. Ochako, Ochako, Ochako …_

Satisfying syllables which once dripped from his tongue so easily, now stuck in the back of his throat as he chokes on his own breath. Izuku. Ochako. When had this happened?

Fuck.

He should go. He doesn't need to see this. Doesn't need to put himself through this pain and this suffering that he tried so hard to distance himself from. But something keeps him rooted in place. He doesn't want to listen, but every cell in his body reaches out for her, straining to make out her muffled words.

"It was a slow day, so Thirteen let me go early," Ochako – no, Uraraka, says. He can't. Won't. They're not close anymore, and he can't and won't pretend otherwise. She pauses before asking. "Are you talking with Todoroki?"

"I, um." Deku glances at the camera again. A loud clattering fills the air, and suddenly all Katsuki can see is blackness. The audio still comes through clear. "I was, yeah."

"Ooh, can I say hi? I haven't seen Todoroki in ages!"

She sounds like she's doing well, at least. She's as bright and cheery as he remembers, and while a part of him is truly happy for her, another part is … disappointed, almost. He's disappointed that … that … he doesn't know. It's too little and too much all at once to put into words.

But what the fuck is going on between her and fucking Deku? And why isn't Todoroki surprised?

"Um, I– I'm not sure if that's a good idea," Deku stammers. Even without video, it's easy to tell he's flustered.

"You should go," Todoroki whispers.

Katsuki wants to. He wants to leave, but he still can't bring himself to move. His heart has long since started beating again, but now it's racing, and his lungs are trying to keep up.

Ochako– _Uraraka_ gasps. "Izuku," she says, scandalized, "have you and Todoroki been cybersexing in the common area?"

"I– Um. Hey! Wait! Give that back!" There's more clattering, and the audio switches from to a whirling view of Deku's apartment.

"Todoroki, you have three seconds to put some goddamn pants on!" she announces. "One!"

"Wait, Ochako–"

"Uraraka, hold on–"

"Two!"

"That's not a good idea!"

"Go!"

"Three!"

The camera whirls around, and suddenly she's _there_. Warm brown eyes and pink cheeks fill the screen, and Katsuki's heart drops out through his stomach. The smile on her face slides into something more like she'd just been punched in the gut, and he can't stand it.

"Oh–"

He flees.

His legs unlock, and he's out of there. Tears prick at his eyes, and he fights them back. His heart threatens to beat out of his chest. His breathing overwhelms him. All he knows is that he needs out, and he needs out _now_.

He makes a beeline for his room, but the walls are thin. If the conversation continues, he'll still be able to hear her voice from in there, and he … he can't. He changes course and marches right out the goddamn front door.

The door slams behind him. He sinks down against the hallway wall and buries his face in his knees. Tears trickle down his face, and it's all he can do to keep his breathing somewhat steady. He can't even pinpoint what it is he's feeling. Is he sad? Angry? Jealous?

Probably all of the above.

Her voice echoes in his mind. _I'm home_. Two words that used to belong to him and him alone, but that she's now given to fucking Deku, of all people. No wait, sorry. _Izuku._

What the fuck?

He tries to be incredulous but it just hurts. He longs for that easy intimacy they once had, the domesticity and the trust and the–

The–

He sobs.

He thought he was over this! The overwhelming emotions, the tears, the _vulnerability_ that scares him so. Now he wonders if he'll ever truly be over it. Has she ruined him? Has the sweet, unassuming Uraraka Ochako ruined the mighty Bakugou Katsuki without even fucking trying?

Probably.

Yes.

The door creaks open, and Katsuki tenses. He doesn't look up, but he can feel Todoroki at his side. The other man sits, his left side radiating a comforting warmth. Neither of them speak for several long minutes. Todoroki politely refuses acknowledge Katsuki's tears and shaky breaths.

Katsuki swallows the lump in his throat as he tries to find something to say. "They're living together." It's not what he meant to say, but the damage is done. He keeps his gaze locked on the spot of floor beyond his knees.

"Yes."

"And you're okay with it?"

"Yes."

Katsuki sighs. " _How?_ "

He feels Todoroki shrug. "Izuku talked to me about it before he asked her," he says as easily as he might talk about the weather. "And Uraraka asked me if I was entirely okay with it before accepting. She said she wouldn't tell Izuku if I said no, she'd make up some excuse of her own."

"You know she had a huge crush on him in school, right?" Katsuki doesn't mean to say it. It just slips out. He doesn't want to ruin what Todoroki and Deku have, but he's just so … bitter, he supposes. He's bitter.

"Yes," Todoroki says again. "It was hard to miss. I believe Deku was the only one unaware."

"And that doesn't fucking change anything?"

"No." Todoroki's unshakeable calm is unnerving. "She stepped back when she realized I had feelings for him. But even if she hadn't" – he shrugs – "I trust them both."

Katsuki swallows against a fresh wave of emotion. He wishes he had the same confidence Todoroki does. He realizes now, more than ever–

"This is why we broke up," he whispers. His voice cracks on 'broke.' "I trust her, but … but I wouldn't have been okay with this. Even now, I'm not okay with it! We would have fucking _fought_ about it and–"

Todoroki hums, and they lapse into another silence. People come and go, but no one gives more than a passing glance at the two Japanese teenagers sitting out in the corridor.

"I'll take all of Izuku's calls in my room from now on," Todoroki says at last. It's not an apology – not quite – but Katsuki wasn't expecting one. Why should Todoroki apologize for Katsuki's own goddamn issues? "Izuku will take them in his room as well."

"You don't have to fucking do that for me," Katsuki spits even though he doesn't want Todoroki to reverse his decision. He needs the space. He doesn't know how comfortable he could be living in his own apartment if he always felt he needed to be on his toes.

"Yeah," Todoroki says, "I do."

Katsuki sighs and pushes himself to his feet. He's exhausted and emotionally drained and all he wants to do is sleep until noon tomorrow. Luckily, tomorrow is Saturday, so he can do exactly that.

Something stops him as he stands before the apartment door, one hand on the knob. There's still a sense of … of guilt, hanging about his shoulders and roiling in his stomach. He wants to be rid of this whole mess once and for all, but–

"Apologize to her for me?" He asks, as meek as one Bakugou Katsuki could be. "Not for … for everything, but. For bolting like that."

Todoroki sighs. "I suppose I could pass the message along."

Katsuki nods curtly. He steps into the apartment, and their conversation is over.

* * *

The cool sea breeze caresses his skin, a soft respite against the oppressive summer heat. Katsuki only experienced the tail end of California's summer last year, and most those days he spent holed away in his darkened bedroom. It's not that he _minds_ the heat; he thrives in it. He revels in the sensation of beads of sweat dripping down his arms and torso, even if it glues sand to his skin like nothing else.

It took some time, but he settled into Californian life. He passed his first year of college with a 3.8 GPA, one class away from a solid 4.0. The few friends he made informed him that a 3.8 was fantastic, especially for someone double-majoring like he was, but Katsuki still chafed at the feeling of failure. It didn't help that Todoroki brought home a 4.0, but Katsuki reminded himself that while he was doubling in chemistry and mechanical engineering, Todoroki was doubling in social work and children's psychology.

Everything had its place, and everything was relative.

Katsuki joined the hiking club at the university early in his second semester, and the time spent out of the city did him a world of good. Earlier that summer, they organized a trip out to Yosemite. It pained Katsuki to take the time off from the agency, but it was worth it. It was _so_ worth it.

Even if some of the club members _had_ played a prank on him and he'd almost started a forest fire.

"Dude!"

A voice breaks him out of his reverie, and a shadow blocks the sun. Katsuki looks up to see Rosetta – "My name's Elena, but call me Lonnie," he learned after a few months – standing over him, her frizzy dark curls dancing wildly in the breeze. She holds a beer in one hand. The other is planted on her hip.

She's wearing clunky sunglasses, but she's speaking Japanese so he knows her eyes are an unnatural gold behind the shades.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "Dude," he mocks in his native language. "You're blocking my sun."

Lonnie huffs and drops to sit next to him in the sand, careful of her drink. She brushes pale sand from brown thighs. "Come on, Katsuki. It's _your_ birthday, what are you doing sitting all the way over here for?"

He shrugs. "Just felt like it," he says. "Is that a problem?" A thought occurs to him and he asks, "Did Shouto send you over to check on me?"

"Nope," Lonnie says. "I just figured I'd come over and hang for a bit."

"Well, you came," Katsuki says. "You came, you hung, and now you can go."

Lonnie pouts. "Aw, come on. Really?"

"Whatever."

Lonnie sighs and shifts beside him, getting ready to stand. Uhg, does he really have to spell this out for her?

"You can fucking stay. It's fine. What the fuck ever."

"Oh."

The wind ruffles his hair, and he takes a deep breath of the salty air. The beach is one thing he's come to appreciate in his time here in California. A few weeks ago, some of his hiking club buddies took him surfing for the first time. He wasn't _great_ at it, but it was exhilarating all the same.

A little way down the beach, some of his coworkers set up a volleyball net. Todoroki is over there with them, his two-toned hair a dead giveaway. Although Katsuki _does_ have friends in the agency now, Todoroki always had an easier time integrating himself into life in California. Given how traditional Katsuki knows Todoroki's family to be, he didn't expect it of him.

Then again, perhaps he had been enthusiastic about something so different from what he knew. Katsuki knows Todoroki took to being called 'Shouto' like a duck to water, while Katsuki himself had a harder time adjusting to the practice of being addressed by his first name.

The only people back home who called him 'Katsuki' were his parents, Eijirou, and Uraraka. And Deku, to an extent.

Lonnie nudges him in the side. "What are you thinking about?" she asks.

"Just … people from back home, I guess," he says. "Nothing real important."

"Of course it's important," Lonnie says softly. "You haven't seen them in, what. A year? I could never go that long without seeing my family."

Katsuki shrugs. "My folks came over around the holidays," he says, "and Eijirou came to visit just a couple months ago. It hasn't been _that_ long."

"Still," she says.

He doesn't acknowledge her. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he crosses his arms over them and rests his chin on his arms. He stares out over the beach, from the blue sky down to the blue-green waves lapping at white sands. Children, teenagers, and adults alike run amuck, laughing and breathing and _living_. Katsuki recognizes several of his coworkers in the crowd.

A head of chestnut-brown hair catches the corner of his vision, and he freezes. He relaxes a second later. He knows it's not her. It _can't_ be her, and yet a year later he still wonders. He … he still wishes, sometimes, that things were different.

He swallows the lump in his throat as he watches the mystery girl. She turns, and her face is wrong. It's too thin, too pale. Her nose is too prominent, and her eyes are too light. Still, he finds himself unable to take his eyes off her as she smiles and laughs.

"You know," Lonnie says, "You could go talk to her instead of staring like a creep."

Katsuki flushes and tears his gaze from the girl as she joins her friends. "Fuck off," he says. "She just … she reminds me of someone."

Lonnie hums. "Ochako?" she asks quietly, picking at the label of her bottle.

Katsuki's heart lodges itself in his throat. "How," he chokes. "How do you know her name?"

Lonnie shrugs, unwilling to meet his eyes. "Shouto might have mentioned it, a long time ago. He, uh. He asked me not to tell you he said anything. I didn't ask questions. I, uh, didn't need to. The Japanese hero forums talked about you guys a lot a couple years ago. And I thought maybe you were trying to keep it a secret from the others?"

Of course Todoroki said something. Katsuki isn't as angry at the revelation as he once would have been, but he sighs heavily and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. He's actually surprised Lonnie didn't say anything before now, knowing her passion for international heroes and how closely she followed the Golden Year from UA.

"It wasn't a secret," he says, resigned. "It was never a fucking secret."

"But something happened," Lonnie prods, then catches herself. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me. You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to."

Katsuki simply shakes his head. "No, it's … it's whatever. I mean, nothing _happened_ , really. I was leaving to come here, and we decided it would be better if we just fucking. Broke up."

"You wish you hadn't?"

"Yes– No– I mean … _fuck_." Katsuki sighs explosively. "I don't fucking know."

Lonnie nods, and they lapse into silence. Katsuki stares out over the beach. The ocean roars and the seagulls squawk overhead. There's background chatter and laughter and Katsuki wishes he could be that carefree but his heart aches and suddenly all he can think about is the time in second year when the class had their training camp in [BLANK]. On the final day, Aizawa allowed them all free run of the nearby beach.

Katsuki spent most of the day refusing to acknowledge how often his gaze was drawn to _her_.

"It's like," Lonnie says, her eyes fixed upon the horizon, "you don't regret the decision to break up, but you wish it hadn't happened."

Blows to the gut haven't knocked the wind out of him as quickly as Lonnie's words do.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, that's it."

"Have you talked to her since you've been here?"

Wordlessly, Katsuki shakes his head. He stares at an extended palm. "No," he says simply as he clenches his fist.

He hasn't seen her since that video call incident three months after he arrived in California. He doesn't ask Todoroki about her wellbeing, although he knows the other talks to her. Actually, he suspects Lonnie's talked to her more recently than he has. He knows Todoroki introduced her to Deku once. She … she could have been there for that.

"Why didn't you try the long-distance thing like Shouto?"

Katsuki snorts. "Lonnie, really. You've known me for nearly year now. Take a goddamn guess."

Lonnie purses her lips. "Fine," she says. "What about when you go back? Will you try to find her then?"

He shrugs. "I want to," he says. He really fucking wants to, but. "But that's still three fucking years from now. She'll probably have someone else by then."

It pains him to admit it. The dull ache flares into something sharp, something fresh. It feels like someone takes a firm grasp of his heart and squeezes until it's nothing but a lump of mushy pulp in his chest. She's moving on, and here he is – a year later – still hung up on her. It's embarrassing, really. He can't let this continue.

"That's just life, isn't it?" Lonnie says. "What a bitch. Life, that is," she rushes to correct herself, "not Ochako."

God, even hearing her _name_ is a needle through his chest, but he chuckles. "Yeah," he says, "I hear ya."

"Well," Lonnie says, pushing herself to her feet. "I think that's enough of that. Come on." She stands over him, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head before holding out her hand. Her eyes are still gold, but he knows they'll be back to brown once they join their English-speaking friends. "It's your birthday! You gotta come have some fun. You _do_ know what fun is, right?"

"Of course I fucking know what fun is," he bites back, but he grins. He takes her hand, and she hauls him to his feet.

She holds her beer out to him. "Want some?"

"I'm only twenty," he says. "No thank you."

She shrugs and takes another sip. "We're gonna have to break you of that," she says, and they rejoin the rest of the group. "It's un-American to not drink until you're twenty-one."

"I'm not American!"

"No, you're Japanese. And drinking age in Japan is twenty, so that's no excuse!"

Katsuki growls and Lonnie laughs. His lingering heartache fades as he watches Todoroki get hit in the head by a volleyball, and everything settles back into place.

* * *

She breaks him of it a couple months later.

"Zero!" Lonnie caught him at the agency one December afternoon as he was packing up for the day. "Are you coming to the Christmas party tomorrow?"

Katsuki shrugged and stuffed a folder into his bag. "I wasn't planning on it," he said, "but I feel like Centigrade isn't going to let me stay home this year."

Lonnie grinned. "Centigrade knows what's up," she said. "It'll be fun! There's a gift swap and ugly sweaters and _way_ too much eggnog. I think Catchphrase is hosting this year, so we won't even have to be in costume like we were last year!"

Katsuki didn't attend last year, but he understood the sentiment. Due to the danger posed to families of American heroes should their identities get out, their real names aren't publicized and they're not allowed to call each other anything but their hero names while they're suited up. He himself didn't even know Lonnie's name until months after he met her. He still doesn't know her last name.

"That probably kept you guys from drinking too much last year too," he commented offhandedly, zipping his bag. "Given you had an image to keep and all."

Lonnie rolled her eyes. "Right? I mean, what was the point?" She paused. "So, you'll be there?"

Katsuki opened his mouth to respond, but someone called for Rosetta. It took a second for Lonnie to register the words, but she held up a finger for him to wait as her eyes faded from gold to brown.

"Sorry," she said in English. "I've got to run. Tomorrow?"

Katsuki sighed. "Yeah," he said in his own still-accented English. "I will be there."

Okay, so it took some bitching on his part and some aggressive coercions on Todoroki's part, but here he is. Bakugou Katsuki is at a goddamn _party_. He's even wearing the ugliest sweater he's ever seen.

He's going to blow it up as soon as they get home tonight.

"You actually _came_ to this last year?" Katsuki asks incredulously as they drop their coats. "Quiet, reserved, 'don't-talk-to-me' Todoroki Shouto came to something like _this?_ "

It's loud and over-the-top. Katsuki should have expected this – he's experienced two American Christmases at this point, he knows the Americans go fucking nuts over the holiday. He doesn't know why he's surprised the agency Christmas Party isn't any different.

Christmas already passed. The party had been planned for before the holiday but was interrupted by an emergency that called half the agency away, Katsuki included. They rescheduled, and the twenty-seventh was the first day anyone was able to host.

It's also Uraraka's birthday, Katsuki remembers distantly. He hopes she had a good day, even though he knows it's already the twenty-eighth in Japan, and pushes it from his mind.

"Of course I did," Todoroki says as they approached the fray. "I wasn't doing anything that night, and there was nothing to be gained by _not_ going. I would've just been stuck at home with your mopey ass."

Katsuki bites back his retort. He knows Todoroki is right, and he doesn't have a leg to stand on.

"Shouto!" someone calls. "Katsuki!"

Katsuki looks up to see Lonnie barreling toward them. She's wearing a stripy red-and-green eyesore of a dress and carrying a red plastic cup. If Katsuki had to guess, he's say she's already a couple drinks in. Most people probably are – he and Todoroki are about an hour late.

Lonnie throws her arms around Todoroki before backing away to do the same to Katsuki. Startled, he stands stiff, but she doesn't seem to notice. She steps back, turns to Todoroki, and grins as her eyes shift from brown to gold.

"You got him to come!"

"I told you I would," Todoroki says, a small smile on his lips. "It was time we got the hermit out of his cave."

"Hey, fuck you!" Katsuki protests. "I'm not that bad!"

Todoroki and Lonnie exchange a glance and break down into laugher. Katsuki scoffs and folds his arms. "Fine," he says. "Be that way."

"Katsukiii," Lonnie whines, "don't be like that! We're just joking!"

"Yeah, whatever."

It's a testament to the amount of time they've spent together in the last few months that Lonnie doesn't even question his recalcitrance. Instead, she hooks her drink-laden arm around his and grabs Todoroki's hand with her free one. "Come on," she says. "You guys need a drink."

"I'm still only twenty," Katsuki says, partially aware of the fact Lonnie won't listen, "and Shouto's only nineteen."

Lonnie makes a dismissive noise. "Like that's stopped him before. Right, Shouto?"

Shouto shrugs. "When in Rome," he says in response to Katsuki's disbelieving stare.

How out of the loop has Katsuki been this past year and a half? Todoroki was off partying and shit while Katsuki … what? Buried himself in classwork? Hiked out in the mountains? Sulked in his room?

Goddamn.

"You know what, Half n' Half?" he says, using Todoroki's old nickname. "I bet I can hold my alcohol better than you can."

"Katsuki," Todoroki says flatly, "you've never drank before. It doesn't work that way."

And Katsuki _knows_ this. He knows he just set himself an impossible challenge, an _unhealthily_ impossible challenge that he would usually never go for, but–

But?

He doesn't know what the 'but' is. Maybe … maybe he just wants an excuse.

"That's the spirit!" Lonnie cheers as they reach the table. "Now, we have liquor and mixers, and beer, but I _highly_ recommend trying the eggnog before it all disappears."

"Is that what you've been drinking?" Todoroki asks.

"Yep! Well, I was. I switched so that there was more left for other people, y'know?"

"How very thoughtful," Katsuki drawls. "Sure, I'll try it."

Lonnie drops both their arms and pours them each a cup of eggnog. They could have done it themselves, but Lonnie is clearly inebriated and no small amount of enthusiastic. Katsuki stands back and lets her do her thing.

"Shouto! Man, there you are!"

Drink in hand, Katsuki turns to see one of their coworkers winding his way toward them. Katsuki can't recall the guy's name off the top of his head, but he's one of Todoroki's friends.

"Dude, come on!" the guy says. "John and Patrick are playing beer pong in the other room and it's getting _intense!_ "

Todoroki glances at Katsuki and shrugs before following his friend. Should … should Katsuki follow him? He doesn't know what the protocol is at these things! He's never played beer pong in his life, though he knows it's popular among his hiking buddies.

By the time he decides he should probably follow Todoroki, the other is already gone – swallowed up by the crowd. Katsuki blinks. He doesn't recognize half these people, even though he probably knows them. He hasn't seen many of his coworkers outside of costume.

Okay, fine. He takes a long sip of his drink, and it's much better than he thought it would be. He takes another. He'll just stick with Lonnie until Todoroki comes back, or maybe they can go find Todoroki together.

Then again, it's not like Todoroki is his babysitter or anything. So what if he's never been to a party before? He can handle himself.

He turns to Lonnie only to find she's a few paces away, talking to an older woman he doesn't recognize. Well, he's gotta talk to somebody. He joins them, only to find they're yammering away what he thinks is Spanish. He may have a firm grasp of English at this point, but Spanish is still beyond him.

Sipping his drink idly, he notices Lonnie's eyes are still brown. Why are they still brown? They shouldn't be – her eyes are brown when she speaks English.

She smiles at him when she notices him standing there, but doesn't interrupt her conversation with the woman. They're still talking by the time he finishes his drink. It doesn't seem like Lonnie's going anywhere any time soon, so Katsuki turns back to the table. He snags a Christmas cookie and pours himself a mixed drink.

He fights back a wince as he tastes it. He didn't choose the right combination of alcohol and mixer and he also made it a little too strong, but he's not a quitter so he drinks it anyway. He observes the party around him as he waits for Lonnie to finish her conversation.

American Christmas is just so … _gaudy_. It isn't tasteful at all, but Katsuki supposes it has its own certain charm. Christmas back home was always pretty quiet.

His mind drifts to the one and only Christmas he spent with Uraraka. It wasn't anything particularly special – they had just started dating and were still settling into things at that point – but it was still one of the best Christmases he'd ever had. He'd give up this gaudiness and frivolity in a heartbeat if it meant he could spend another quiet Christmas with her.

If he knocks back his second drink a little faster than he originally intended … well.

"You're thinking about something you shouldn't be, aren't you?"

Katsuki blinks down at Lonnie, who gazes up at him with concern in her golden eyes. "How the fuck would you know?"

She shrugs. "You get, like, quiet, and your face goes all soft."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he bites. "Why were your eyes brown when you were speaking to that woman? I thought they were brown when you spoke English."

Lonnie sighs and, thankfully, accepts the subject change. "They are," she says, getting herself another drink. "I was bilingual in English and Spanish before my I got my quirk. It really scared my parents when I started to only sometimes understand English and other times only understood Spanish. They thought something was wrong!"

She motions for Katsuki's cup, and he hands it to her. He waits patiently as she fills it. His head is starting to swim, and he's not entirely sure if he likes the sensation or not, but he made a bet.

"How did they figure out your quirk?" he asks, taking his cup back.

Lonnie grins mischievously, and his heart skips a vital beat. He busies himself with taking a drink. "I turned around and responded to a couple behind us in the grocery store in perfect Chinese," she says, "and my eyes turned orange!"

"Must've been a fucking shock," he grumbles.

"I don't know who it shocked more, my parents or the Chinese couple! Now come on, you can't just stand in the corner all night. Where'd Shouto go?"

Katsuki shrugs. "Some guy pulled him away to play beer pong. He went" – he waves his hand in the general direction Todoroki walked off to – "that way. I think."

"Well, let's go find him, then!" She grabs his hand, and Katsuki can't help but notice how _warm_ her hand is. How long has it been since he's known casual affection? A year and a half, excluding the week Eijirou came to visit a couple months back? Has it been that long? He misses it. He misses _her_.

He's so lost in thought he forgets to pull away.

The party passes in a blur. He's not sure how much of that is due to the alcohol and how much of that is due to the sheer number of people he's forced to interact with. People come and go, most of whom he doesn't recognize out of costume, and he finds himself slipping farther and farther away.

The gift exchange occurs late in the night, and Katsuki takes a seat on a couch away from the festivities. He wasn't … wasn't originally planning on being here at all, so he doesn't have a gift. He doesn't mind. It's all silly anyway.

The couch is nice though.

Someone sits down beside him with a thump. He looks over to see Lonnie looking back at him, a small shiny parcel in her hands. Blinking heavily, he tries to find words.

"I'm not in the gift swap," he says.

Lonnie rolls her eyes and giggles before slumping into his side. "I know that, silly. I got this for ya anyway."

If the couch was nice, the warm pressure of her against his side is nicer. He should push her away. He really, really should, but he … doesn't. Go figure.

"I– you didn't have to fuckin' do that," he growls, but it lacks any real heat. Katsuki's a man who's all edges. His hair's sharp. His quirk's sharp. His mind's sharp. His _name_ is sharp. The words drip from his lips; slow, lazy, all rounded with no edges whatsoever.

Lonnie giggles again. "I _know_ I didn't," she says. "But I did! No takesie-backsies!"

"You're ridiculous."

"I know that too!"

With a heavy sigh, Katsuki grabs the package. It takes him a couple tries to get his finger underneath the paper to rip it up, but he manages it in the end. He pointedly avoids looking over at Lonnie's eager face. He doesn't know where the sudden anxiety has come from.

"It's a fuckin' box."

"That's the point," Lonnie says lightly, prodding him in the side. "You gotta _open_ the box!"

Katsuki rolls his eyes and pushes Lonnie with his shoulder. It's not enough to push her away, but he didn't mean for it to be. She pulls closer into him and wraps herself around his arm, resting her head on his shoulder.

He wants to ignore it. He knows Lonnie's an affectionate drunk – Todoroki warned him about her on the way to the party earlier that evening. As much as he _wants_ to ignore it, though, he can't. As much as it makes him anxious, it's comfortable. It's a comfort he didn't realize he craved until he was exposed to it once more.

Well, fuck.

"Come _on_ ," Lonnie says. "We don't have all night!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll open your stupid fucking box."

Holding the box in his Lonnie-laden hand, Katsuki pulls the top off with his free one. It's – he blinks hard as he tries to focus – it's a globe. With a precision that takes far more effort than it should, he pulls the globe from its tissue paper nest.

That's–

"That's Tokyo tower," he states.

Tokyo's famous landmarks stare back at him from where they're nestled inside the globe, pieces of tiny glitter confetti swirling around them. He gazes into the snow globe, entranced by the glitter's dance.

"I. Um. Well. I know you miss Japan, and there's not much I could really do about that, y'know? But I saw a snow globe in one of the tourist shops around here, which gave me the idea. I thought with this you could keep a little piece of Japan for yourself …" she trails off, and Katsuki finally looks up. "Do you like it?"

"I–" Katsuki's voice cracks, and he swallows against the overwhelming emotion. "I love it," he whispers. It's easily one of the most thoughtful gestures he's received in his time here in California, and he … he doesn't quite know what to do with himself.

He doesn't know why he does it. Perhaps a few wires in his brain got crossed somewhere along the line. Maybe it's the alcohol. It's possible this has been a long time coming now, and he only sees the train right before it hits him.

He turns and kisses Lonnie's temple. He was aiming for her cheek, but she's slumped a little too low against his side for him to reach. "Thank you."

Okay, so the alcohol definitely has a hand in it.

Even in his mind-blurred state, he means for that to be that. He chastises himself as he pulls away. Why did he do that? She's a friend. She's Lonnie, not Ochako, and he … he shouldn't have done that.

With his sloppy drunken reflexes, nothing could have prepared him for Lonnie reaching up and grabbing his lips with hers. Would it have mattered? When his brain catches up, he doesn't pull away like he should. He sinks into the sensation. Distantly, he wonders why he had been so hesitant.

Lonnie unwinds herself from around his arm and shifts so she's straddling his lap. She grabs the front of his ugly-ass sweater and deepens the kiss. Katsuki doesn't think. Between his alcohol-fogged brain and the headiness of the sensation, he _can't_ think. He wraps his arms around her, the snow globe falling forgotten to the cushion beside him.

The party ignores them. They aren't the only couple making out in a corner – far from it, really. Katsuki forgets to be self-conscious. His heart soars, and he'll hold onto this moment of unadulterated happiness with everything he's got.

"What the fuck was that for?" he murmurs when they pull apart. They're both breathing heavily, and Katsuki's more than a little dazed.

"Do I have to have a reason?" Lonnie asks. "I just wanted to."

Katsuki shrugs. "Works for me."

Lonnie leans in and kisses his earlobe. "You wanna get out of here?" she whispers. "You know I live alone."

A jolt shoots through him. It's impossible to miss the implications in her words, and he finds himself wanting exactly that. He hesitates for only a second before answering. "Yeah. Fuck it. Yeah, let's go."

Katsuki snatches his gift up from the couch. Lonnie grabs his hand and leads him to the door. They grab their coats, and they're gone.

Clutching the Tokyo skyline snow globe, he offers a silent apology to the chilly December night.

* * *

They don't talk about it.

That's not to say it's a one night stand. It isn't, by any stretch of the imagination.

"I had fun," Lonnie says the morning after the Christmas party as he dresses to leave. "Do you wanna do it again sometime?"

Katsuki pauses. Does he? In the light of day, he realizes just how vulnerable the alcohol left him the night before, but he doesn't really _regret_ any of it. He finds himself nodding. "Yeah, sure," he says. "I'm down."

"Well, you have my number."

He nods again. "Yeah, I'll text you."

And that's how it is. Nights spent together in the safety of Lonnie's apartment bleed into taking lunch together which bleeds into making plans together. Are they dating? Katsuki doesn't know. He feels like they are – this is a ritual he remembers all too well – but Lonnie doesn't ask and he's left wondering.

When someone calls him her boyfriend a month later, she doesn't correct them, and Katsuki supposes that's that. Her smile brightens his day, her Japanese eyes like twin golden suns set into her dark face. It's a stark contrast from–

No.

They're not affectionate at work. Everyone at the office knows, of course, because news travels fast and most of the agency was at that Christmas party, but Ground Zero and Rosetta aren't dating. It's a weakness which, if revealed, would make one of them – probably Rosetta, even though she's not actually a hero – a target.

Katsuki chafes at the restriction, the complete distinction between their hero and personal identities still somewhat of a foreign concept, but Katsuki and Lonnie have a freedom that Ground Zero and Rosetta don't.

 _And_ they don't have the media constantly on their asses like he and–

No.

They spend most of their time at Lonnie's apartment. Although Shouto knows about their relationship, Katsuki is uncomfortable having Lonnie over at their place. He tells Lonnie he doesn't know why. The truth is, there are a couple reasons. For one thing, Shouto is still in his long-distance relationship with Deku and Katsuki doesn't want to rub the loneliness in his face. The second is that Katsuki doesn't want another video call incident like the one a couple months after he arrived in California to happen while Lonnie's there.

It's been well over a year since that incident, but it's still something Katsuki doesn't want to happen again. He doesn't want–

No.

A couple months pass in this manner. Katsuki takes comfort in Lonnie. Since that Christmas party – no, since his birthday on the beach – he hasn't felt nearly as alone as he did the first year he was in California. She's sweet and intelligent and supportive and, really, everything he could ask for in a girlfriend.

So why does guilt sit so heavy in his heart?

It weighed him down the morning after the Christmas party. Katsuki hoped it would go away in time, but while it's gotten lighter, it still lingers. He knows he's done nothing wrong. Okay, well, not counting the stupid little mistakes one makes in every relationship, but none of those have been significant enough to cause him to feel this way.

He gives it time, because it's said time heals most things. He wants this to work, this thing between them, but … maybe this – whatever _this_ is – isn't most things.

Three months in, he comes to terms with the inevitable. He just … he doesn't know how to bring it up.

In the end, he doesn't have to. She does.

He wonders what gives him away. Is it the way his eyes are constantly drawn to the Tokyo snow globe that sits in a place of honor on his desk? Is it the way he gets distracted sometimes, staring off into nothingness as memories overtake him?

Or does nothing give him away at all?

"Katsuki," Lonnie says to the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the window, "what are we?"

Katsuki swallows hard. They're in his room for once – Shouto is out for the weekend at a Tai Chi competition, so they're taking advantage of the fact he has the apartment to himself. She's nestled against his side, doodling abstract patterns on his skin.

He doesn't know how to answer the question. His silence must be answer enough, because she sighs.

"We're … dating?" he offers tentatively. It's not enough. He knows that, but it's all he's got.

Lonnie's finger stalls. "Yeah," she says, "we are, but …" she trails off and shrugs. She doesn't finish her sentence. She doesn't have to.

"But it's not working, is it?" The words fall from his tongue and – like a ballast – lift some of the guilt from his heart.

She shakes her head and sighs. "It's not," she agrees.

Silence falls between them, but neither of them move. Katsuki stares at the ceiling and all its imperfections. He wanted it to work. He tried to make it work. "What went wrong?"

Lonnie shrugs again. "I don't think it really _went_ wrong," she says. "I think … I think maybe it was never right to begin with."

And damn, doesn't that hurt?

"I've been really happy these past few months with you," Katsuki says. He's grasping at straws. Is Lonnie going to slip away from him as well?

"And I've been happy too," Lonnie says, "but I– I feel like you look at me, some mornings, and you're disappointed. Disappointed I'm not Ochako." She whispers, like anything louder will topple the fragile house of cards they've built. "I'm not her, you know. I never will be."

No.

" _Lonnie_ ," Katsuki says, pushing himself up so he could see her properly, "no. No, _shit_. I wasn't– I'm not– I know. I _know_ you're not her. I didn't want you to be."

"Katsuki." Lonnie sits up as well, clutching the sheets to her chest. "It's okay. No, really. It's okay. I promise."

"How is this fucking _okay_?" he demands. "Goddammit, Lonnie! Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

She shrugs, unwilling to meet his eyes. "I knew what I was getting into," she admits. "Shouto … he talked to me. Said you were always going to go back to her after graduation. Told me not to let you become my Ochako."

"Lonnie." He doesn't know what else to say. His heart is breaking in his chest, but not … not for himself. For her. He can't even find it in himself to be upset with Shouto.

"But I wanted to help!" Lonnie says. "I think I did? And I _did_ want this. I– I still do. I just … I think we're better off as friends, aren't we?"

Katsuki sighs. She's not wrong. "Yeah," he concedes. "I think we are."

Lonnie looks like she's about to say something else, but instead she just swallows and nods. Pushing off the covers, she rolls off the bed and begins hunting for her clothes. Katsuki wants to help, but he doesn't know if it'd be more of an insult at this point. He sits on the bed and fights his conflicted emotions. He mourns what he and Lonnie had, even if only for a short time, but he also feels an overwhelming sense of relief.

He wasn't pretending. He was never pretending.

Why is he grateful he doesn't have to pretend anymore?

"Jesus, you really threw this thing," Lonnie says, breaking the tension in the room as she pulls her bra from the depths of his closet. "You couldn't just, like, drop it over the side of the bed like a normal person?"

Katsuki laughs, but it's weak.

She turns to him and makes a face. "Oh yeah, that's right. This is you we're talking about– hey, what's this?"

Bra in place, she grabs a wad of black fabric. She shakes it out, and Katsuki's heart lodges itself in his throat. It's his shirt. It's the old skull-print t-shirt he threw into his closet when unpacking over a year and a half ago. Black against the shadows, he forgot it was there.

"Oh."

Lonnie looks at him, puzzled. "What was this doing down here? You're such a neat freak."

Katsuki sighs. After the conversation they've just had, the last thing he wants to do is talk about that shirt, but Lonnie's his friend and she deserves the truth. "That was … it's an old high school shirt. Um. Ochako used to wear it a lot. I, uh, forgot it was back there."

"Oh," Lonnie echoes. "Do you … want me to put it back?"

Katsuki sighs and shakes his head. "Nah, you can leave it. I'll take care of it later."

"Okay," she says, draping it over the end of his bed. She stares at it a moment, and Katsuki gets nervous. What could she be thinking? Finally, she asks, "Skulls? Really, Katsuki? That's so _tacky_."

Katsuki barks a laugh and rolls his eyes. "I was in high school, Lonnie! Come on, give me a break!"

Lonnie grins back at him before grabbing her shirt and slipping it on. Fully dressed, she shrugs. "I guess this is it," she says. "Doesn't have to be though – we could still have fun sometimes."

Katsuki smiles. That's one thing he admires about Lonnie – her absolutely indomitable jovial attitude. "You're right," he says. "We could. I think I could do that."

She leans in and hugs him tight. He returns the gesture. She really does mean so much to him, and he's so grateful for her presence in his life. So this experiment of theirs didn't work out. That's okay.

It's okay.

"Thank you," he says into her ear. "I'm sorry."

She buries her face in his shoulder and shakes her head. "Don't apologize," she says. "Just promise me you'll work things out with Ochako when you get home. I better be invited to the wedding."

"That's entirely up to her," Katsuki says, "but … I'll try."

Lonnie pulls away and nods. "Good," she says. "I'll see you around?"

"Yeah," Katsuki says. "I'll text you."

"If you don't," Lonnie says as she backs toward the door, "I know where you live."

And then she's gone.

Katsuki sighs heavily as he hears the front door shut behind her. He sits there for several minutes, replaying their conversation in his head, before he finally stands. Ensconced in the safety of his bedroom, he doesn't bother dressing. Wearing only his boxers, he lifts the shirt from where Lonnie left it at the foot of his bed.

He caresses the soft, worn fabric, tracing the cracked and faded design with his eyes. With another sigh, he carefully – reverently – folds the garment before placing it in the back of his t-shirt drawer. When he turns around, his eyes catch on the snow globe Lonnie gave him. It glints in the sunlight shining through the window.

Katsuki walks over to it and gives it shake. The glitter dances, and he watches it for a moment before turning to gaze outside. The sunlight is warm against his face, and he feels something inside him unclench.

The skies are blue, and he's a cloud drifting in the wind. He doesn't know where he'll end up, but he knows everything will work out right in the end.

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _Join me on tumblr (URL: karmahope) or my discord (discord. gg/ E5rT8kH)!_

 _One more chapter until the official end, but I'll probably be writing some companion pieces I'll tack on the end here, since there's no good way to do a series on FFN like there is on Ao3._


	8. She's just the girl I'm lookin' for

**Limerence**  
(Haunted)

* * *

 **\- 0 WEEKS –  
AUGUST**

Ochako wakes to silence.

The morning sunlight casts luminescent shadows across the room, warmth puddling in their depths. She blinks into consciousness slowly as she shakes off the last vestiges of sleep. As sleep-muddled as her brain still is, she knows something's wrong.

Something's very wrong.

It's silent.

She hasn't known silence like this since those lonely days in that apartment back before UA moved its students to Heights' Alliance.

She sits up and yawns. Pulling her mittens off, it doesn't take long for her to notice the bed is made beside her. It always is – that in itself isn't unusual – but there's a sense of _finality_ to the crispness of its corners, like the man who folded the covers back channeled all his frustration into the mundane task.

That's right.

He's gone.

Ochako swallows hard against the emotion that wells in her throat. She knew this was coming. She knew what she was getting into. She thinks back to a cold winter night; to a gym, an exercise bench, a barbell, and a healthy dose of courage. She remembers the warmth in her soul despite the chill.

She wasn't trying to fool herself.

She never tried to fool herself.

On this hot summer morning, Ochako shivers. All that is gold cannot stay, and indeed it did not. It's okay. She has her life. She has her friends. She has her career. She has what's important.

It's fine.

It's all fine.

With a deep breath, Ochako steels herself for the day. She gave herself today off. As prepared as she was for today, she still knew it would be hard. One day. She would give herself one day, and it would be back to life as usual.

Well, almost as usual.

She pushes herself from the bed, bare toes meeting sun-warmed floor. She stretches. Cracks her back. The sound echoes in the empty silence of the bedroom, and she winces.

Maybe she'll go out today. It's a nice morning, and she doesn't want to stay cooped up in her silent apartment. She thinks Tsuyu has today off as well. She knows Deku doesn't. Her idiot best friend really thought work would be a good distraction from the fact his boyfriend is no longer in the country.

He may be right. Ochako hadn't wanted to find out otherwise.

She heads toward the bathroom with another heavy sigh, leaving her side of the bed unmade behind her. She has her hand on the doorknob when she pauses.

Tears prick her eyes and she chokes. She turns, crosses the room, and rips back the covers on the other side of the bed. She refuses to let those crisp corners taunt her. She refuses to be haunted by the ghost of a man who isn't even dead.

The entire bed is hers, now. She can't be pretending otherwise.

She accidentally slams the bathroom door behind her. For a moment, she simply stands there, trembling. Whether she's trembling in sorrow or anger, she doesn't know. She doesn't particularly want to find out.

Neither would do her much good.

Ochako meets her own gaze in the mirror above the sink. Her hair is getting long, she thinks. Should she cut it? She likes it long, but maybe it's time for a change. She runs her fingers through the chestnut strands as she considers the thought.

Just like he used to.

He always loved her hair.

She pulls her hand away, running it back through her bangs. It's too soon to tell, she decides. She'll think on it for a while, maybe ask Tsuyu or Deku what they think as well. Her eyes skim her reflection. Nothing looks _different_ about her. She looks the same as she always did.

From her reflection, one couldn't tell she feels like she just had a major piece ripped from her. This is good. This is very good.

She wants to keep it that way.

She has to keep it that way.

Ochako does her business, lingering in the bathroom far longer than necessary. Opening the door means facing the day, and she's not quite ready for that and all it entails. It doesn't matter though, does it? It doesn't matter if she's ready or not.

She pads out to the kitchen, barefoot silence in a left-bare room. The hum of the refrigerator when she opens its door is a welcome break, its voice joining in harmony with that of the lights and the air conditioning. Standing there in her pajamas, Ochako surveys its contents as it speaks to her.

The refrigerator is stocked, its shelves full of food and produce. It's a far cry from the emptiness of the refrigerator in her first apartment, from the new emptiness of _this_ apartment. She stares. Katsuki– Bakugou– must have gone grocery shopping before he left.

Ochako doesn't know what to do with half this stuff.

Katsuki– Bakugou. He did most of the cooking. She never learned how.

With a heavy sigh, Ochako settles for a simple Western breakfast of toast and jam. That much, she can do. She'll have to learn to cook now, won't she? The thought intimidates her. Her! Uravity! She takes down villains without a second thought but the thought of _cooking_ intimidates her. She laughs to herself as the bread toasts. Her laughter is firecrackers, the toaster a gunshot.

She jumps.

Dashing off a text to Tsuyu as her toast cools, Ochako breathes. She can do this. It's … honestly not as bad as she thought it would be, last night as she laid awake and traced Kats– Bakugou's noble, moonlit features with her eyes while he slept.

She's strong, she knows. Even if he hadn't made a habit of telling her so, she would know it. She won't let something like this drag her down for long.

She _can't._

Her plate hits the dining table with an audible _clink_. The seat across from her is empty. This in itself isn't unusual. Ochako has taken breakfast by herself many a time when her schedule didn't line up with Kats– Bakugou's. Honestly, the most unusual thing is that Bakugou's leather jacket is still draped over the back of the chair across from her. He usually takes it to work with him.

She blinks.

He usually takes it to work with him.

His leather jacket is still draped over the back of the chair.

He usually takes it with him.

 _Why is it here?_

Ochako's toast falls back to her plate, forgotten. That's his favorite jacket. How could he have forgotten it? Was he in that much of a rush after making the bed so neatly?

She stares.

Should she … text him? Let him know he left it behind? Surely he was missing it, but … no. She did some mental math. He's on the plane by now, there's no point in texting him.

 _Clean break,_ she reminds herself as she stands and rounds the table in a daze. She resolved not to text him for anything, but … is this different?

She lifts the jacket from the back of the chair. The smooth, worn leather is a comforting weight in her hands. How many times had he embraced her wearing exactly this jacket? How many times had she admired the figure he struck with it upon his frame?

How many times?

How many times?

There wouldn't be any more.

Her frame convulses. A sob rips from her throat. The cry echoes through the apartment, the space mourning his absence along with her. Every wall, every defense she's built around her heart since waking this morning shatters beneath the force of her sorrow.

She sinks to her knees, the jacket clutched in her hands. Her stomach flips. Her quirk is active. If she lets go, the jacket will float off into the middle of the room, her spirit along with it. In one fell swoop, she falls apart there on the floor of her hollowed-out apartment. She hugs the jacket tight as if it will help her hold herself together.

It doesn't.

How can she look at this jacket and _not_ mourn everything that is, that was, and that ever could have been?

Ochako struggles to control her breathing. Sliding across the floor until her back hits a wall, she lets that solid pressure ground her. She's in her apartment. She's in _her_ apartment. She has everything she needs.

She never _needed_ him.

She just wanted him.

She still wants him.

If this were a movie, she thinks, a dampened cheek resting upon folded knees as she stares toward the entryway, he would burst through the door any second now. He'd realize she was more important than his career, get off the plane, and come back to her.

Through her tears, Ochako laughs at herself. She's not more important than his career. He's not more important than hers. That was one of the things they agreed upon early on in their relationship, and it was an understanding that saw them through many a fight.

Life isn't a movie.

He's not coming back.

Something catches her eye. The overhead lights glint off the metallic face of her apartment key. It lies on the floor just inches away from the front door. Ochako buries her face in Katsuki's jacket as she bursts into a fresh wave of tears.

She realizes too late that saltwater can't be good for the leather. She pulls away and wipes it off as best she can, which … isn't great, but it's _something_. With a shaky breath, she loosens her grip and pulls it on over her pajamas instead.

She releases her quirk, and the weight settles like a hug around her shoulders. The jacket smells like him, all burnt sugar and that cologne he wore upon occasion. If she closes her eyes, she can almost pretend he's right here beside her.

Almost.

She knows he's halfway across the world.

Maybe … maybe she _should_ text him. It wouldn't be too hard to ship the jacket to him, and he's probably missing it. He's just too proud to text her first.

Ochako instinctively reaches into the jacket pocket for her phone, realizing too late it's not her jacket. She's in her pajamas, and her phone is still sitting on the dining table. To her surprise, her fingers close around a folded piece of paper. She should let sleeping dogs lie, but she's always been too curious for her own good.

She sniffles and draws it out.

It's a page from the notepad that lies on the kitchen counter, the one they'd use to leave notes for each other on days their schedules were so opposite their paths didn't cross for longer than a couple minutes at a time. She unfolds the page with careful precision.

She drops it.

The page stares up at her from its newfound position on the floor. The short message written upon it taunts her in Katsuki's explosively familiar scrawl.

 _Chin up,_ it reads. _Show 'em what you've got._

The note isn't signed, but it doesn't need to be. Katsuki left it there for her to find. He left his jacket _on purpose_ , and thus there's no reason to text him.

The idiot, she thinks as she bursts into tears once more. Hadn't they agreed on a clean break?

Then again, did she ever really expect him to adhere to that?

It's a question she can't answer.

Ochako cries until she can cry no more. She feels dry. Empty. Hollow. Almost mechanically, she unfolds and pushes herself to unsteady feet. She grabs the note absently. It doesn't feel right to leave it there on the floor.

Her phone lays forgotten on the dining table, her now-soggy toast beside it. She checks her messages to see she's missed a text from Tsuyu, but she ignores it. Going out is the last thing she feels like doing now.

She dials a familiar number instead.

The person on the other end picks up after only one ring.

"Uraraka?"

Tears prick her eyes. Apparently she hadn't cried herself out, after all. " _Deku,_ " she sobs.

"He's gone." It's not a question.

"Yeah," she says. "And I–" _I don't know what to do._

"I'll be right over," Deku says.

She remembers then that he doesn't have the day off like she does, and she probably shouldn't have called him in the middle of work. "No," she says. "No, you don't have to do that. I'm sorry."

"Uraraka," Deku says gently, "I was sent home early. I'll be right there. Hang tight, okay?"

Ochako nods before realizing Deku can't see her. "Okay," she whispers.

Deku hangs up, and she's left holding a silent phone to her ear. She busies herself with throwing out the soggy remnants of her toast, and it's not ten minutes later that she hears knocking.

She opens the door, and Deku falls into her arms. He's crying, and she's crying again too, and somehow they make it to the couch before their legs give out beneath them.

"He's gone," Deku sobs, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder. "I– I saw him off at the airport and– and now he's _gone_."

"I know," Ochako whispers, her words wet with tears. "I know. I woke up this morning and– and _he_ wasn't here, either."

"I'm sorry," Deku says, pulling back and wiping his eyes. It's a hopeless gesture. More tears immediately follow. "I came to help you, and I ended up a mess myself."

"It's okay," Ochako says. "You are helping. Thank you."

They spend the day watching cheesy television and eating takeout. His presence is a reminder she's not alone, and hers is a reminder that neither is he.

It's enough for now.

* * *

 **\- 3 WEEKS –  
SEPTEMBER**

Ochako settles back into a schedule.

The sheets remain rumpled. The fridge empties out. The hum of the electricity keeps her company. It's eerie, the silence. She hasn't lived alone in nearly four years. On one hand, it's nice to return to peace and quiet after a hectic day in the field, but she starts to get antsy after only a few hours of absolute silence.

She calls Deku. She calls Tsuyu. She calls Mina, Momo, Kyouka, and Tooru. She calls Iida. Sometimes they don't talk much. Sometimes they just leave the line open and go about their business. It helps, though, knowing that someone is _there_.

Ochako knows it isn't sustainable.

The weeks pass, and she doesn't call her friends nearly as often as she did in the beginning. It's stupid, she thinks as she pulls yesterday's bento from the office refrigerator. She knew what she was getting into when she started dating Kats– Bakugou. She can't keep running to her friends crying of a broken heart when she essentially did the breaking.

She _knows_ Kats– Bakugou didn't want to break it off. She _knows_ he would've been willing to attempt the long distance if she asked. She _knows_ , and that only makes it worse.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Ochako sighs heavily and takes a seat at one of the break room tables. She slumps against the tabletop, her cheek propped against her knuckles. Why did she have to check Twitter that morning? She knew it was going to set her off, seeing Todoroki's tweets about America. She should probably unfollow Todoroki for the time being. Hearing about America only makes her think of _him_.

She prods at her half-eaten bento with disinterest. It's in a sorry state. Simple to begin with, she picked out most of the good parts yesterday. She's eaten maybe half of it in the past two days, but she can't bring herself to eat the rest.

With another heavy sigh, she gives up. She'll put the lid over it again and stick it back in the fridge. Maybe it'll seem more appealing tomorrow.

Ochako knows she should be eating more than she is. She knows she _needs_ to be eating more, but she can't. Her stomach roils at the thought. It's been two weeks since he left, and she still can't manage more than a couple bites of anything at one time.

Most of the food he left in her refrigerator went bad before she could get to it.

"Uravity!" A voice breaks through her morose thoughts. "Can I sit here?"

Ochako looks up to see Nibui Senken – hero name: Foresight – standing over her table. They've been friends since he started at Thirteen's agency, but company is one of the last things she wants right now. She pastes a smile on her face and nods anyway. "Sure," she says, but he's already pulling out a chair and sitting down.

After a couple months of working with him, she's used to his mannerisms. He's not trying to be rude, she knows. He just already knew she was going to say yes before she did.

"So," Nibui says, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Do you think we're going to get called out this afternoon?"

Ochako shrugs, pushing away her abandoned bento. "I hope so," she says. "It's been _ages_ since we've had a proper call."

"Office work is important too," Nibui says. He sits back in his chair. "I know what you mean though, I'm starting to get antsy sitting around here."

"You, getting antsy?" Ochako laughs, and she feels some of the weight lift from her heart. "I'll believe it when I see it."

Nibui is one of the calmest guys she knows, and that includes Todoroki, Ojirou, and Shouji. She supposes it must help, always knowing three seconds in advance what someone is going to do at any given moment.

It's certainly an asset in battle.

Nibui laughs as well. "You know what I mean," he says with a grin.

They sit there in comfortable silence for several long moments as Nibui eats his lunch. Ochako might not be eating, but she's still on her lunch break, and she's warmed up to the thought of company. Maybe she really does just need to talk to somebody.

"Nibui," she says, a stray thought crossing her mind, "how's your sister?"

He's already putting down his chopsticks when she speaks. "She's doing a lot better," he says. "She's taking quirk suppressors until she gets a better handle on her quirk. It wasn't nearly as hard on her out in the country, but moving to Tokyo was a bit of a shock."

While Nibui's quirk allows him to see three seconds into the future of a person's actions, his sister can see three seconds into the future of a person's emotions. A couple weeks ago, Nibui was telling her about his family moving to Tokyo to be closer to him and his sister's subsequent mental breakdown. Last Ochako heard, she had been institutionalized.

Then everything happened with Kats– with Bakugou, and Ochako completely forgot to follow up.

She's a terrible friend, really.

"That's good to hear," she says earnestly. It's nice to focus on someone else's problems for a moment. "I've been worried."

Nibui smiles. "It's okay," he says. "I know you've had a lot to worry about recently, too." He winces. "I'm sorry."

And just like that, her spirits fall again. Of course he knows. All of Japan knows! The tabloids couldn't leave it well enough alone. They've only just recently stopped hounding her for interviews about Japan's beloved, recently departed Ground Zero.

He isn't even dead, for God's sake!

"It's okay," Ochako says, pasting another smile on her face as her stomach lurches. "Really, it is."

Really, it isn't.

"Oh," Nibui says. "Well, uh. I–"

He breaks off midsentence and stands. A second later, Ochako's phone buzzes where she left it on the table. Glancing down at it, she sees it's a call to action and stands as well.

Good, she thinks. She needs the distraction.

"Come on," she says. "Let's go!"

But Nibui is already moving. Damn. As useful as that quirk is, she sometimes feels like she's constantly two steps behind him when he gets like this. Which, for all intents and purposes, she is. The knowledge doesn't change the irritation burning in her chest.

Their lunch forgotten, they're out the door in a matter of seconds. Ochako activates her quirk on herself and Nibui beside her. Initializing her directional jets, she grabs his waiting hand and launches them both toward the geographical coordinates they were sent.

It's a dance they've mastered. It took some trial and effort at first, but after nearly a year of working together they have it down pat.

There are several heroes already on the scene when they get there. Ochako drops Nibui on the street, then bounds up to a rooftop where Deku is surveying the damage.

"What's the situation?" she asks. "We got the call, but there wasn't much additional information."

Deku shrugs. "I just got here myself," he says, "but it looks like the villain has a density manipulation quirk. He can manipulate his own density, I mean, not things around him."

Ochako nods. "Any known motivation?"

"Not yet," Deku says. "I'm not sure it matters at this point. He's causing significant property damage."

"Right."

Ochako takes a moment and a deep breath to center herself. Her mind hasn't been where it needs to be recently, but she can't let that affect her work. Villains are villains, and that hasn't changed.

Neither has she.

She can do this.

Her stomach growls.

Shit.

Deku turns to her with a concerned expression. "You haven't eaten lunch yet?"

Ochako sighs. "No, I–" _I did,_ she means to say, but she never could lie to Deku. "I guess not," she says instead.

"We'll get lunch after this," he says. "My treat."

"Deku," Ochako protests. He's done enough for her already. "No–"

She doesn't get much further. A crash echoes through the street. She turns to the source of the noise. A man just crashed through the wall of one of the shops.

"That's our cue," Deku says. "Let's go!"

Nibui is already squaring off against the villain when Ochako and Deku land at street level. It's impressive, watching him fight. He moves so fluidly and counters flawlessly, like he knows every move his opponent will make.

Which he does.

Unfortunately, this villain packs a little more of a punch than usual, and he's struggling to keep up with the weight of the man's blows.

Deku darts into an opening with a flying quirk-laden kick, but the villain catches it and throws him back. Deku attacks again while the villain is distracted by Nibui, but even though the blow lands, the villain doesn't move.

He's an unstoppable force against an immovable object, Ochako realizes as she maneuvers herself into position against a building wall. She clings lightly to a windowsill to keep herself in place above the villain. Well, she can do something about that.

She watches Nibui for his cue. Thirty seconds pass, and he scratches his nose. Now!

Wait, shit! Is that someone running away behind them? Goddammit, there are two of them!

Ochako releases her quirk and drops toward the villain like a stone. He doesn't look up. Why doesn't anyone ever look up? It doesn't matter. It works in her favor. She lands squarely atop him, activating her quirk upon contact.

"He has a friend!" she yells to the others as she grapples with the now-weightless villain. "I can handle this one! Go!"

To their credit, neither of the boys hesitate. The run off in the direction she points, leaving her with only the villain and her growling, unhappy stomach.

At least one perk of not eating is not having anything in her stomach to come up when she ultimately overuses her quirk.

She feels the strain on her quirk as the villain increases his density. A higher density means more mass which means more force when gravity is applied, but… "That won't help you, my friend," she says cheerfully.

He growls and takes a swing at her with the arm she hasn't secured. She barely reacts in time. His fist clips her in the temple, and her grip loosens as her vision swims. _Shit_. She got cocky and forgot that force results from a mass with _any_ sort of acceleration, not just gravity.

Kats– Bakugou would give her an earful for this one.

But he's not here, and thankfully, there's no one else around to witness her mistake. Her vision swimming, her ears ringing, she wrestles the villain back under control. Anyone who isn't used to maneuvering in zero-g is awful at maneuvering in zero-g. After all, isn't that how she beat Bakugou in their third-year sports festival?

It is, but that's beside the point.

Once the villain is subdued and restrained with quirk-suppressing cuffs, she releases her quirk and gives him over to the authorities with shaking hands. That's one villain taken care of, but she knows there are more out there. She's not sure _what_ this ring is after – they're not League villains, not anymore – but if there were two, there are sure to be more.

She hears muffled shouting in the distance. Clouds of dust kick up from the next street over, and Ochako steels herself for another fight. A hero's work is never done.

Her legs wobble beneath her as she sets off at a slow jog. Her vision closes in as she focuses single-mindedly on the fight before her. The buildings pass around her. The road passes beneath her feet. It's just her and the next fight. It's always just her and the next fight.

"Deku!" she cries as she arrives on the scene. Her voice is foreign to her own ears. "What can I do?"

"Uravity!" Deku calls back, flinching as the villain punches a hole into the street beside him. "You– are you all right? You're awfully pale!"

That's ridiculous. If anything, she's flushed from the heat of battle, her skin prickling beneath her spandex as she grows hot beneath the collar.

The ringing in her ears grows louder as she takes measured breaths. The world closes in, a dark fog obscuring the edges of her vision until she's only barely aware of the fight before her. She catches sight of Deku's horrified face as she finally realizes how much trouble she's in.

"I'm–"

* * *

Ochako wakes to the too-familiar rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor.

She surfaces to consciousness slowly, then all at once. What happened? Okay, that's a dumb question. She knows what happened. She passed out in the middle of a fight. Shame washes over her. How could she?

"Don't move too much," a familiar voice says from her side. "You're still on an IV drip, you don't want to rip that out."

Katsuki?

Her heart leaps into her throat even as her rational brain dismisses the thought as impossible. She looks over, letting out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Deku gazes back at her with sorrowful eyes.

"Deku?"

Deku forces a smile. "You really scared us back there," he says, rubbing his thumb over the old scars on his other hand. "Nibui's been demanding to know if you're okay. He was pissed he wasn't allowed back here with you. I told him he should go home."

"Why are you here, then?" Ochako asks, her brain still a little fuzzy.

"I'm your emergency contact, silly. I called your parents. They wanted to be here, but they couldn't get away from work."

Right. She forgot she added Deku as her emergency contact. From graduation up until a couple weeks ago, it had been Katsuki. Fat lot of good that would have done her this time.

"Thank you," she says, then coughs. Deku hands her a small plastic cup filled with water. She takes it gratefully.

"Uraraka," Deku says, "what happened? You haven't passed out in the field since–"

Since the fight that ended the League of Villains in their third year. The fight that raged for hours, not the mere minutes she was out in the field today. Was it still today?

"I was stupid," she says, staring down at the now-empty cup clutched between her hands. She can't meet Deku's eyes. "It won't happen again."

Deku sighs. "Nibui told me you didn't eat much for lunch today."

Ochako shrugs. "It was an off day," she lies desperately.

He doesn't take the bait. "You went into hypoglycemic shock after one fight, Uraraka. That's not an 'off day.'"

Ochako heaves a sigh. She doesn't want to cause trouble for anyone, but Deku is her best friend. If she can't tell him, who can she tell? Besides, with Todoroki gone, she knows he understands her better than anyone else in her life right now.

She can almost hear Katsuki scoffing at the notion.

Her eyes flick up to his wide green ones before darting back to the plastic cup in her hands. His green curls are sweaty and tangled, his costume dusty and torn. He hadn't even gone _home_ after the fight. He'd come straight to the hospital to see her. Guilt claws at her throat.

"It's been hard," she whispers. "I just haven't been hungry. I know I haven't been eating well, but I just can't get myself to force anything down. I sit down to eat, and I'm just _nauseous_."

She glances up again to see Deku nodding slowly. "You could have said something," he says just as quietly as she had.

"No," she says, "I couldn't. I knew Katsuki was going to leave. I can't be this weak!" She nearly shouts the last word, the hand unaffected by the IV clenching into a fist. "Don't you know how quick the media would jump onto any weakness I show? I just– I _can't_. I can't, Deku. I just–"

 _Can't._

Can't what?

She doesn't know anymore.

Silence falls between them, and Ochako stares blankly into a spot on the hospital blanket before her. She looks up when Deku takes a deep breath. He stares down at his hand, his thumb pressing more firmly against the flesh.

"I've had the opposite problem," he admits. "I'm eating too much. Shouto and I are so used to cooking for two that I– I still do. And then I eat it all myself. I'm working out more to even it out, but I'm … I'm struggling, too."

Ochako smiles sadly. "Have you talked to Todoroki about it?" she asks, already aware of what his answer will be.

Deku shakes his head. "I can't bother him like that," he says. "He's got so much else to worry about." He pauses, an expectant look coming over his face as he watches her. He opens his mouth to say something, but hesitates.

Ochako has gotten good at reading Deku over the years. "What is it?" she prompts.

"You should move in with me," he blurts. "Once your lease is up. We're both struggling, and I think we'd both do better if we had someone else with us."

Ochako blinks. Deku looks serious, and it _would_ save her money on rent, but… "Would Todoroki be okay with that?" she asks tentatively. The fact she had a massive crush on Deku during their high school years is an open secret, and if she were Todoroki, she's not sure if she'd be comfortable with this arrangement.

Deku shifts in the hard plastic chair. "Um. He's actually the one who suggested it," he admits, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I was hesitant at first, but he thinks it's a good idea."

"But you said you haven't talked to him about anything?"

He huffs a laugh. "You know how observant Shouto is," he says. "I might not be telling him everything, but he knows _something's_ up."

Ochako bites her lip as she considers. "You're serious?"

Deku nods. "Yeah."

She wants to. She really, really, wants to, but… "Let me think about it?"

"Oh! Yeah," Deku says. "Yeah, absolutely. There's no rush."

Ochako smiles. What did she do to deserve friends like Deku? She doesn't know, but she's grateful for whatever it was.

Speaking of friends, she should probably text Nibui.

"Do you know where my phone is?" she asks. Deku hands it to her, and everything settles back into normalcy.

Well, a new normalcy, at least.

* * *

 **\- 3 MONTHS –  
NOVEMBER**

In the end, Ochako subleases her apartment and moves in with Deku by the end of that month. After Deku's offer of the same sort of constant companionship she so mourns – well, not the _same_ sort, but close enough – she can't get it out of her head. Her apartment gets even quieter, even lonelier, the ghosts of times long past all but abandoning her.

She wishes they would abandon her completely.

But they don't, and so she packs up and leaves them behind instead.

"The guest bedroom is over here," Deku says lamely, "but you already know that. You've been here before." He laughs nervously, and Ochako's heart sinks down into her stomach.

"Are you sure this is okay?" she asks for what must be the millionth time. "Really, I appreciate the offer, but you don't have to do this for me."

Deku sighs. "I'm sorry, Uraraka. It really is, I promise. It's just–" he sighs again. "You're not Shouto, and it's weird, but I think it's the kind of weird that will get better with time, you know?"

Ochako smiles as her heart breaks for her friend. She knows.

"Ochako," she says, and Deku glances up at her with a weird look on his face. "What? If we're going to be living together, we might as well be on a first-name basis."

There's still a part of her that says it's too much. It's too intimate, knowing their non-history and their non-future, but Ochako _misses_ hearing the syllables of her name and the implicit comfort of closeness they bring. If Tsuyu can ask her friends to call her by her first name, then so can Ochako.

Deku laughs again, but this time it's comfortable laughter that sets her at ease. "Sure, Ochako," he says with a grin, one hand buried in his hair. The other extends toward her. "Then, maybe you could call me Izuku?"

Ochako shakes his outstretched hand, and the agreement is sealed. In retrospect, she thinks as they work together to arrange her things in her new bedroom, it would be weirder for her to call her new housemate by his hero name all the time.

Huh. _Izuku_. She silently wraps her lips around the word. The syllables are foreign on her tongue, even more foreign than those in _Midoriya_ ever were, but she thinks she could get used to them.

And get used to them, she does.

"Izuku!" she calls a few months later, closing the door against the crisp autumn air behind her. "I'm home!"

"Ochako!" Izuku yelps from the living room, glancing up at her as she removes her shoes. "I wasn't expecting you home this early!"

Ochako smiles even as something twinges in her chest. Izuku never fails to brighten her day, even when she's feeling down. Moving in with him has done her a world of good, and while Izuku plays his cards as close to his chest as he always has, she thinks it's done him a world of good as well.

"It was a slow day, so Thirteen let me go early," she says with a sigh. She hates slow days. They leave her unfulfilled. On one hand, she's grateful for the fact Thirteen lets her go home rather than waste time at her desk for the rest of the afternoon, but it frustrates her at the same time.

She notices then that Izuku holds his phone in front of him. "Are you talking with Todoroki?"

"I, um." Izuku looks back at her like a deer caught in the headlights before laying the phone face-down on the coffee table. "I was, yeah."

Ochako's spirits lift. She forgets the disappointment of being sent home early in the face of a new opportunity. "Ooh, can I say hi? I haven't seen Todoroki in ages!"

She knows he and Izuku talk regularly, or at least as regularly as their schedules allow. Izuku will sometimes talk to her about it afterwards, but it's rare that she gets the opportunity to talk to Todoroki herself. They weren't particularly close in high school, but they've grown closer in recent months. Ochako is determined to be able to call Todoroki a friend if she's to be living with his boyfriend.

Sometimes, she remembers Todoroki is the closest connection she has to Kats– Bakugou.

She tries not to.

"Um, I– I'm not sure if that's a good idea," Deku stammers. Ochako watches curiously as he flushes red. Why is he so hesitant? He _knows_ she and Todoroki are friends. Surely he isn't suddenly uncomfortable with the fact they're living together?

Unless…

Ochako gasps. "Izuku," she says, horrified by the thought that occurs, "have you and Todoroki been cybersexing in the living room?"

"I– Um –"

She doesn't give him time to explain himself. Dashing forward, she snatches his phone from him, careful to keep the picture facing away from her.

"Hey! Wait!" Deku protests. "Give that back!"

Ochako laughs, thrilled at the chance to give Izuku and Todoroki shit. "Todoroki," she announces, "you have three seconds to put some goddamn pants on! One!"

"Wait, Ochako–"

In retrospect, she should have listened, but how was she to know? Izuku's video calls with Todoroki have been a regular occurrence for months. How was she to know that _he_ would be there this time?

He stands behind Todoroki's shoulder, almost out of frame but not quite. She's struck with a vivid sense of longing as she drinks in the sight of his spiky hair, his red eyes, and his strong nose. He looks good, she thinks, but … there are bags under his eyes that weren't there before. He looks like he's lost weight.

The longing morphs into a sledgehammer of guilt.

"Oh," she says, stupidly. Before she can say anything else, he's gone.

She can't blame him. It's her fault, after all.

It breaks her heart all the same.

She forces a smile for Todoroki, who stares back at her with a hint of concern on his usually-impassive face. "It's good to see you, Todoroki."

"I'm looking after him," Todoroki says. "Don't worry. And … I'm sorry."

Ochako doesn't trust her voice. She simply nods and hands the phone back to a stricken Izuku. "I'll be in my room," she murmurs. She doesn't even check to see if he's heard her.

She flees.

Burying herself under the covers, she can't fight the tears that slip down her cheeks to soak her pillow. The only source of illumination in the room is the afternoon sunlight filtering in through the window, and she burrows into the darkness.

Katsuki.

She's seen him vulnerable, more vulnerable than anyone else ever has, but she's never seen him so _defeated_. She wants to ask a million questions. Does he not like California? How's his internship going? How are classes? Does he hate her? Has he … has he met anyone else?

She can't ask any of them. She _won't_ ask any of them. She's not entitled to that information anymore, she made quite sure of that.

Once upon a time, she had hope that a clean break would make it easier for them to glue themselves back together upon his return. That they could simply start over. That they could exchange stories of their time apart without hard feelings holding them down. Now, she realizes that was never possible. Now, she realizes she should have tried harder to hold onto him. Onto what they had.

If it still ended, then nothing would be different. But at least then they could say they tried.

He wanted to try. She didn't let him.

And now they're here.

"Ochako?"

Her bedroom door creaks open. She rolls over to see Izuku silhouetted against the light from the living room. Part of her doesn't want company. She deserves to wallow in her own guilt. The larger part of her can't resist the comfort he provides.

"Hey," she croaks.

"Ochako," Izuku repeats, crossing the room to sit on the edge of her bed. "I'm sorry."

With a deep breath, Ochako shrugs half-heartedly as she wipes her face dry. "It's not your fault," she says. "You couldn't have known I was going to be home. You tried to warn me. And I … I shouldn't be this upset over this. It's been months."

Izuku gives her a look. "Don't say 'shouldn't,'" he says. "Three months isn't a long time, in the grand scheme of things."

"Yeah, but–"

"But nothing," Izuku insists. "It's fine. And … it _is_ kind of my fault. No, really," he insists when she's about to protest. "It is."

"Why do you say that?" Ochako asks in a whisper, a pit of dread yawning open in her stomach.

Izuku sighs. "Shouto and I … we thought it would be good for two to see each other. You miss Kacchan, and he misses you, and I– we– we hate seeing you guys upset. We weren't planning on it being today, but then you walked in, and … yeah."

Anger wells in Ochako's chest, but a deep understanding of her friends suppresses it before it overwhelms her. She lets it go. "I appreciate the thought," she says diplomatically, "but … don't do that again, please. It's not going to fix anything."

"I'm sorry," Izuku repeats. "We won't. Can you … can you forgive us?"

Ochako smiles, tears welling in her eyes once again. "I'll always forgive you," she says, sitting up properly. She lays her head against Izuku's muscled shoulder and breathes deeply. In the dark of her bedroom, they sit together in silence.

"I miss him," Ochako says, her voice breaking. "It's not fair!"

"I miss him too," Izuku says. There's something in his voice that prompts Ochako to look up. His face glistens in the afternoon sunlight, but his tears aren't for Katsuki. "I miss him, too."

* * *

 **\- 2 YEARS, 8 MONTHS –  
APRIL**

Ochako loves flying. She loves the thrill. She loves the feel of the wind through her hair. She loves being above it all. When she's in the air, it's like the rest of her life slips away with the receding cityscape until it's naught but small and insignificant. Up in the sky, it's just her and her thoughts and the occasional bird.

Yes, she loves flying.

 _Falling,_ however.

Now that's a different story.

Ochako grasps the civilian's forearms with callused palms. She meets his panicked gaze with her own level one. She's panicking as well, but years of training allow her to bury it deep inside. It can't look like she's anything but calm and collected. It has to look like she has this under control, even if she doesn't have it under control at all.

She fires her directional jets, slowing the man's descent. The moment she's satisfied with his trajectory, she disengages and rockets toward another civilian. She repeats the process again and again, until all two hundred-someodd civilians drift loosely through the atmosphere. She heaves a sigh of relief before setting off again to pull them all close enough to each other to grab hands or various other body parts.

Somewhere below them, now out of sight, the commercial jet is already a hunk of molten wreckage.

Ochako thanks her lucky stars the tip that came in was accurate. Pilots are good, but most people aren't 'villains attempting to hijack the plane' good. Her thoughts drift briefly to her fellow pro heroes who went down with the plane attempting to subdue the villains. They, at least, had parachutes.

The civilians whom had been on the flight did not. That's where Ochako came in.

A cheer erupts from the gathered crowd as they drift into earshot. Once they're only a few meters off the ground, Ochako releases her quirk. The two hundred civilians tumble to the ground, safe. Some might have sprained ankles or a broken bone from a bad landing, but they're alive.

Holy shit. They're alive!

"Uravity! Uravity!"

Ochako releases her quirk on herself, dropping lightly to her feet before turning toward the reporters swarming the area. Sweaty and haggard, she pastes on a smile. Dealing with the media has never been her favorite part of this job, but it's a part of the job all the same.

Wait.

What time is it?

"Uravity, that rescue was _amazing_ ," one of the younger reporters gushes. "You looked like– like an _angel_ , coming down from the heavens!"

Ochako smiles tightly. _He_ used to call her that, in his softer moments. Two years later, the association has faded, but still it lingers. It's an echo of things long past; things better forgotten, but things impossible to forget.

"I'm just doing my job," she chirps. "Any one of my colleagues would have done the same."

What time is it?

"Uravity," a more seasoned reporter says, "sources say the flight had upwards of two hundred people aboard, and you just saved all of them! This may be the largest single-handed rescue of the last ten years! What do you have to say to the rumors circulating that you just broke All Might's record for the largest rescue?"

Ochako blinks, stunned. "You're kidding," she says before catching herself. "I mean, I'm incredibly flattered and humbled. All Might was such a positive influence growing up and throughout school at UA– and even still today. I certainly don't want to take away from any of his accomplishments. After all, he's the one who set the record in the first place!" She suppresses her nervous giggle, but just barely.

What time is it?

"Uravity–"

It doesn't end.

The reporters drone on. She answers questions and blinks away flashbulb afterimages until she no longer recognizes her own voice, until she no longer feels present in her own body. She falls back on the PR training she received at UA to see her through.

What time is it?

 _What time is it?_

It's too late, is what it is. By the time she escapes the media and makes it back to the agency, she doesn't even have enough time to change, let alone shower. She drags a brush through her hair, but there's only so much it can do. Her filthy, scuffed face is at odds with her sleek black dress. She tries to wash the grime away in the sink, but she's not entirely successful. More extensive makeup would cover it, but she doesn't have the _time_.

It's nearly seven o'clock, and she told Senken she'd meet him at six. She bites back a curse as she stuffs her gear in her locker and grabs her purse. At least she'd had the foresight to bring her things with her to the agency. She would've lost even more time if she had to head home.

Hah. Foresight.

Slipping a pair of aviators on, she exits the agency and hails a cab. Inwardly, she winces. It would be much cheaper to take the bus, but it would take her more than twice as long to reach the restaurant. She's kept Senken waiting long enough as it is.

Her strappy heels and her dignity are the only things that keep her from running into the restaurant.

Lifting her shades, she sees Senken before he sees her, which is a feat rarely achieved. He stares out the window, a listless, resigned glaze to his countenance. Guilt consumes her. It would be one thing if this were the first time she'd left him waiting. Another thing if it were the second.

She doesn't know how many times this has happened. She stopped counting months ago.

Giving a friendly wave to the staff – they've been here often enough – she approaches his table. He looks up at her before she even opens her mouth. "Senken? I'm so sorry I'm late." _Again_.

He smiles at her, but it's tight. "It's okay, I knew you were coming."

"Of course I was," she says, taking a seat. Something knots in her chest, but she pushes it aside. This is _Senken_. They've been dating for a year already! This is– Shit, this is their anniversary dinner. She'd forgotten in the heat of the battle and the chaos afterward. "I wanted to get here sooner, but there was that plane crash, and then the media kept me there for _ever_. You know how it is."

"Don't worry about it, Ochako," Senken says, taking her hand. He picks his phone up off the table with the other. "I've been watching the news. Rescuing all those people? That was … really impressive."

Ochako glows beneath the praise. She hasn't had time to process it herself, yet. Two hundred people in a single rescue? The reporters were right. That _is_ a new record. She can't wait to tell Izuku about it later, even though she's sure he already knows.

"I still can't believe it myself," she says, squeezing Senken's hand before pulling away to look at the menu. When he doesn't say anything in response, she looks up. He has an expression on his face she can't decipher. "What's wrong?"

He smiles. No, correction. He _forces_ a smile. Her blood turns to ice in her veins. "It's nothing important," he demurs. "Have you decided what you want?"

She sets her menu down. "Senken." Her tone brooks no argument. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Ochako," he pleads, "please. I don't want to get into it right now. Can't we just have dinner and celebrate our anniversary?"

If she's being honest, she wants that more than anything else, but she can't let this go. This isn't the first time Senken has gotten snippy with her after a rescue. She's been content to let it slide before – his moodiness passes quickly – but she's had a long day and suddenly she's out of patience. If there's something wrong, she wants to hash it out and fix it before it gets any worse. "If we don't talk about it, we're just going to sit here awkwardly all evening. That's not much of a celebration, is it?"

Senken heaves a sigh and sits back, hugging his arms to his chest. Ochako wants to reach out to him, but she clasps her hands in her lap instead.

"It's just," Senken starts, "I feel like I'm not nearly as important to you as work is."

Ochako blinks. This? Again? It's something that's come up a few times in the year they've been together, but they've talked it out every time. Every time, she thinks they've solved the issue for good. Every time, she's proven wrong.

"You know that's not fair," she protests softly, shifting which leg is crossed over the other as she leans forward. "I'm a pro hero. You are too. You'd prioritize people's lives over a date with me. You've done it before. Just because work holds me up doesn't mean you're any less important to me, or that I love you any less."

Senken shrugs. "You could've gotten here on time if you hadn't stopped to talk to the press. I don't know, Ochako. I feel like you're getting more popular and I'm just getting left in your dust."

Ochako doesn't understand. Is he … _upset_ with her success? He's done nothing but support her, first when they were friends and in the year since they've been together. Was that a lie? Has this entire relationship been a lie?

"Everyone moves at their own pace," she insists, but there's a quaver in her voice that wasn't there before. "You're also an incredible hero. You've saved so many people."

"You _would_ say that though," Senken says, albeit without any malice. "You graduated from UA. Your graduating class was _the_ Golden Year. You've had a head start that most of us can only dream of having. The world has been infatuated with you since you were _fifteen_. You've been working on opening your own agency with Deku, of all people! How can I hope to compare?"

Ochako doesn't know what to do. "Have you– have you always felt this way?"

Senken shrugs again. "A little, I guess. I've always tried to tell myself it was temporary, but it's not, is it?"

Tears well in her eyes, but she forces them back. How could she not know this was how Senken felt all this time? As she thinks back, she sees what she refused to see before. His moodiness. His protectiveness. Everything she'd written off.

"Senken, this is who I _am_. That's not going to change. But please–" it's her turn to plead– "tell me what I can do to help fix this."

Her boyfriend cracks a smile. "I just want us to be on the same level. I need you to understand that, and maybe…" he trails off. "Maybe keep that in mind? A little?"

Ochako opens her mouth to agree, but balks when she realizes what he's asking. "You're asking me to hold myself back?" she asks, praying she heard him wrong. "You don't want me to reach my full potential?" How _could_ he? After all this time she's spent trying to prove herself?

"No, I didn't mean–" Senken protests, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "When you put it that way– Ochako, I love you."

His face falls even as he's talking. She shakes her head. "No, Senken. You love _having_ me. If you loved me, you'd support me wholeheartedly."

"I do!"

"You don't." She should be crying right now, but the tears she felt earlier have dried in the heat of her kindling anger. "Senken, I don't think I can do this anymore. I think it's probably best we go our separate ways."

She may not be crying, but Senken is. "I can't be him," he sobs. "I could never be the great Bakugou Katsuki."

Ochako's anger grows even hotter. It's the heat of a copper pipe left out in summer, the kind of heat that feels cold upon first contact. There's the answer she knew he wasn't giving her. This was about Bakugou. It was _always_ about Bakugou, and Senken's unfounded insecurity about needing to live up to him. An entire year, all those fights, everything she's done to move on…

…and it comes down to this.

"This has _nothing_ to do with him," she bites, careful to keep her voice down. They're still in the restaurant, and she wishes she had just let it go until afterward like Senken had asked. "It never had _anything_ to do with him. This is about _me_ and what _I_ deserve, and this isn't it."

"Ochako–"

Ochako shakes her head and stands, digging in her purse for a few bills to leave for the staff. They never ordered anything, but they certainly took up the table long enough. "No, Nibui. We're done."

She keeps her composure as she walks out of the restaurant, her heels clicking against the floor. She replaces the aviators over her face, grateful for the fact they hide the tears just beginning to brim beneath her eyes. In her smart black dress, she feels nearly as powerful as she does in her hero gear, and she draws on that sense of power to get her home without incident.

Izuku finds her out on their balcony not half an hour after she returns, Bakugou's old leather jacket draped around her shoulders over her dress. Her sunglasses are still perched on top of her head, and her heels have been kicked just to the side. In her hand, she holds the note Bakugou left her. It's worn and creased from two years of handling, but it still reads the same.

 _Chin up._ _Show 'em what you've got._

Izuku doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. He wraps an arm around her waist, and she leans into him as they gaze up at the stars. She sighs into the night. She's oddly at peace with her breakup. She may have loved him, but Nibui wasn't right for her. Upon reflection, she realizes she's known that for a long time. It's almost … freeing, this turn of events.

Little does she know it's the beginning of the end.

* * *

 **\- 2 YEARS, 10 MONTHS -  
JUNE**

Her fight and subsequent breakup with Nibui ends up splashed all over the tabloids. Of course it does. Even if the restaurant they frequented has a reputation for being discreet, it was still a public place. Ochako curses herself time and time again for not just letting it go. She _knows_ better than to deal with something that personal in a place where someone could overhear. In a place where someone could snap a photo.

She deals with the worst of the fallout for weeks, but the repercussions last months. She's villainized for breaking poor Foresight's heart. And on their anniversary, no less! She throws herself into her work, riding the crest of her record-breaking rescue. Unfortunately, despite her refusal to comment upon the situation, rumors run rampant.

She's still in love with Ground Zero, and led Foresight on for a year.

She broke up with Foresight because she's a stuck-up Golden Year bitch.

She was holding Foresight back.

She was cheating on Foresight with Deku.

None of them are the truth. She knows that. She soldiers on, muting her social media and ignoring the news. She knows the truth, and everyone closest to her knows the truth. That's what matters in the end. Isn't it?

Besides, that rescue boosts her rank. It boosts her rank a _lot_. Despite the nasty rumors circulating around her, she's shocked to see her name at the bottom of the Billboard Top Ten.

 _#10 – Uravity_

She's not the first to make the top ten. Izuku has been bouncing around the lower top ten for a couple years now, and Yaoyorozu has crept onto the board a couple times before falling off again. Still, at twenty, with a quirk that isn't particularly well-suited for battle, landing a top ten spot is a feat worth mentioning.

She's far more than the rumors and gossip. She's Uravity, of the Golden year, who currently holds the record for the largest single-handed rescue. She's Uravity, who's set to open her own agency alongside Deku as soon as they get the paperwork squared away. She knows her worth, and no one can take that away from her.

But the rumors still hurt.

They still affect the public's opinion of her.

And they still _linger_.

"Todoroki," she sobs into the phone, weeks after she'd thought the fallout from her split with Nibui had died. "I swear, it's not what it looks like."

Todoroki's breathing is even on the other end of the line, and she waits with bated breath for a response. Any response. She knows he knows she's living with Izuku. They've been living together for years now. She knows he and Izuku talked about it beforehand. She knows he's supportive of the situation. But these _photos_ … these photos are incriminating.

She doesn't know how the paparazzi got them. She doesn't know why they suddenly care. She's been living with Izuku for years, and apart from some probing questions, the media has never given them trouble. Perhaps she was still too fresh off her relationship with the much-adored Ground Zero at the time. Perhaps her rumored affair with Izuku that stemmed from her breakup with Nibui sparked this new invasion of privacy. She doesn't know. She doesn't care.

What she _does_ care about is the fact the photos make it look like she and Izuku are _together_ , together. She remembers that night. They went out with some of their old classmates, celebrating the opening of their new agency, and the last drink she had was just a little too strong. Izuku was drinking too, and a tipsy Izuku is a touchy Izuku.

That makes it sound like something happened.

Nothing did, and that's exactly the problem. Sure, they leaned on each other a little more on the way home than they usually did. They held hands in public, which they're usually careful not to do. The photos even caught her looking up at Izuku with a sappy expression on her face. Yes, she loves him, but it's not romantic love. It hasn't been romantic love for a very, very long time.

He's her best friend. Her port in the storm. But that's not what the media takes away.

"Uraraka, calm down," Todoroki says, his voice as level as it always is. "I know it's not what it looks like. You and Izuku would never do that to me."

"But–" She breaks off, words failing her. How can he be so _calm_ about this? He knows she used to have a crush on Izuku. The entire goddamn class knows. She was never very good at hiding it, despite her best efforts. Hell, she and Izuku have already gotten texts from most of their friends asking if the rumors are true.

" _I'm sorry for asking,"_ Momo's text read, _"But it's been a few years since Todoroki left, and you just broke up with Nibui not too long ago. It's not inconceivable, and I just had to make sure Todoroki wasn't going to get hurt."_

She gets it. She really does. It doesn't mean she hates it any less.

Todoroki sighs over the line. "I'll admit I didn't like it at first, but it was a knee-jerk reaction. I'm sorry for doubting either of you for even a second. Thank you for calling, though. It really helps."

"Of course," Ochako says, her voice small. She knows the admission must have taken a lot out of him. "Are you– Are you still okay with us living together?"

She'll move out if he wants her to. It'll be hard. It'll be very hard, but she knows she can do it. The last couple years have given her strength. She's moved on. She can find a new apartment. Perhaps she should do so anyway. Continuing to live with Izuku will just fuel the rumors, but she doesn't want to move out. Izuku's unwavering friendship far outweighs any slander hurled against her.

"Of course I am," Todoroki says. "You're good for him, Uraraka. Thank you for being there for him when I can't be."

And just like that, any thoughts of moving out are abandoned, replaced with thoughts of– of– well. The one she can't be there for.

"How is he?"

She doesn't say his name. She doesn't have to.

"He's … well," Todoroki says. "He's doing really well."

He says the same thing every time. Ochako started asking after _him_ sometime after the disastrous video call a few months after they left. Izuku doesn't know she asks. She's pretty sure _he_ doesn't know, either. It's a secret kept between herself and Todoroki alone.

And Todoroki knows that any more detail would simply hurt.

"Good," Ochako says, as she always does. "That's good."

She doesn't keep up with Ground Zero. In the months after he left, even seeing his name was akin to getting shot through the heart, so she blacklisted it on her computer. She thinks … she thinks she could handle knowing what he's up to now, but she hasn't gotten around to removing the blacklist. Perhaps she never will.

But she still asks.

Todoroki talks with her a while longer as she comes down from her panic. They're friends, after all, independent of Izuku and Bakugou. He tells her about his road trip through the States with some of his friends from school, about winning his most recent martial arts competition, about a particularly difficult villain he fought. America has been good for Todoroki, she thinks. He's a lot more open than he used to be.

She wonders if it's been just as good for Bakugou.

She hopes so.

* * *

 **\- 3 YEARS -  
AUGUST**

"Okay guys, here's what we know."

Ochako surveys the small band of heroes gathered in the main office of their fledgling hero agency as Izuku addresses them from beside her. In the few months they've been in operation, they've managed to pick up a few other heroes and a handful of sidekicks eager to work with the legendary Golden Year graduates. She swells with pride as they hang onto Izuku's every word. Although she's only twenty-one, she remembers being in their place not too long ago.

"This group of villains considers themselves the successors of the League of Villains, which was defeated and put behind bars several years ago. They're only a handful strong, but they're not to be underestimated."

Izuku trails off, and Ochako picks up where he left off. "The one we assume to be their leader has a hypnotization quirk. We've been calling her Hypnos. Don't make eye contact with her. That's how she gets you. There's Concussion, a man who specializes in explosives; Echo, another man who can mimic any sound, including people's voices; Shield, a woman who projects force fields; and Talon, a woman who secretes poison from her fingernails." She can't remember how many hours she's spent compiling the files on these guys since they made their first move back when she was still working under Thirteen.

"We believe their target to be the Hero Registry Office," Izuku says. "This is their first big move since they came onto the scene, and they intend to make a statement. The office is being evacuated as we speak, but it's our job to stop them before they can cement themselves as a threat. Got that?"

The audience choruses their agreement, and Ochako hides a smile. Izuku has really grown into his own in the past years, becoming the hero she always knew he would be. She adds a couple closing remarks, and then they're suiting up and moving out to their assigned posts across the city.

Despite her confidence and bravado while addressing their agency, dread wells in her stomach. Something doesn't feel right. It's all too easy. The Hero Registry Office? Intel far enough in advance that the office could be evacuated beforehand? It makes her uneasy.

"Deku," she murmurs as they bound across rooftops, "I don't like this."

Izuku plasters a grim smile across his face. "I don't either," he says, "but it's the intel we've got, and our agency is too new to risk acting against established information. We're just gonna have to stay on our toes." He makes a face.

Ochako knows it must be killing him; after all, this is the man who broke every rule in existence and risked expulsion from his dream school to rescue Bakugou that night in their first year at UA. If it were just the two of them, they'd probably break off and follow their gut instinct, but it's not. They have people relying on them now. They're responsible for those at their agency, and any hare-brained schemes would reflect badly not just on themselves, but on everyone else.

It's not something they can risk. Not until they're certain.

Ochako doesn't need to give the media anything _else_ to lambast her for, thank you very much. She's been under fire enough recently.

The Hero Registry Office doesn't look any different from the buildings around it. From what she's gathered over the years, it used to have a gaudy emblem on it, but they realized all too late that such adornment just made it a target. When they rebuilt it a second time, they left off any indication it was the Hero Registry Office. Now, it just looks like any other office building.

Ochako and Izuku stand on a rooftop a few blocks away as they take in the situation. The other heroes and their sidekicks have dispersed to differing parts of Koreria Ward with instructions to keep their heads up and their comms open. If the villains _do_ plan to take out the Hero Registry Office, they'll act as sentries and attempt to give a heads up. If the villains don't, then maybe they'll be in a position where they can get to the new location sooner.

They're not entirely unprepared, but Ochako still worries.

"Look at that," Izuku murmurs. "I don't like empty buildings."

Ochako hums her agreement. Empty buildings mean preparations have been made for something to go terribly wrong. There's a sense of foreboding about them she doesn't like, either.

She watches as other heroes she recognizes join them atop surrounding roofs and alleyways. Nibui is here with Thirteen. Her heart aches, but it doesn't hurt. If she were still there with him, she wouldn't be up here with Izuku.

Still, she turns away before he can look up and see her watching him.

It's quiet.

It's too quiet.

A figure emerges on the roof of the Hero Registry Office.

Izuku tenses beside her, mirroring her own panic.

It's calm.

It's too calm.

She flicks a switch on the side of her visor. Her HUD switches from real-vision to virtual reality, and she zooms in on the figure, a woman, who comes to sit on the edge of the roof. She has green hair pulled up out of her face and wears a black jumpsuit unzipped to reveal a green sports bra underneath.

"That's Talon," Hawks says into the comm. "Keep your eyes peeled." Ochako recognizes the woman from her file. Talon, although a ruthless fighter, is far from the most dangerous criminal in this band. Where are the others?

"I can see you all there," Talon calls out, her voice artificially enhanced. It reverberates through the empty streets. Ochako switches her HUD back to real-vision as Talon continues, "I respect your hustle. Unfortunately–"

An explosion rocks the ground beneath them. Ochako turns to see smoke rising from the base of an office building on the other side of Koreria Ward. Her heart drops through her stomach.

"–You're too late!"

Talon cackles. Ochako doesn't even stop to think. "Deku! Now!" She grabs Izuku's wrist and lifts the gravity from both him and herself. To his credit, he doesn't hesitate. He wraps his arms around her and launches them into the air with One For All. In a matter of seconds, they're off like a rocket.

Another explosion.

Ochako takes over, guiding their approach with her directional jets. Together, they cross Koreria Ward in a fraction of the time it will take everyone else – even Hawks – to do the same. This isn't the first time they've employed such a maneuver, and it won't be the last.

She controls their descent, returning their gravity at the best possible moment to give them downward momentum before removing it again right before impact. Her boots absorb the shock, and with another release, they're down.

A third explosion rocks the office building before them. This close, they can hear the screams of the terrified civilians inside. Her stomach flips, and it has nothing to do with the use of her quirk.

"Concussion is removing the load-bearing structures on the first floor," Izuku says, analyzing the situation in a heartbeat. "Uravity, negate the building. I'll hold it up from inside until someone with a better quirk comes along."

Ochako nods and boosts herself up to the roof. She'll get a more even grip on the building from up there, and eliminating the gravity on the building from the top down will reduce the potential energy of the building faster than if she starts at the bottom.

She lands on the roof and keeps her head down as she scrambles to get to the center before another explosion. She almost makes it. The shock from the explosion down below knocks her from her feet. Diving into a forward roll, she slams her hands down on the concrete beneath her.

She pushes everything she has into the building structure, pulling the gravity from every square meter of material her quirk can reach. Her stomach revolts, and she spills her breakfast over her hands. Recoiling in disgust, it's all she can do to keep contact with the floor. It's not the first time she's puked over herself during hero work, and it won't be the last.

But she's pushing her quirk to the limits. She's never held up an entire building before, but failure isn't an option here. If she can't get the building to a manageable weight, Izuku will be crushed beneath it and everyone inside will die.

She can't let that happen.

Ochako doesn't know how long she kneels there, her hands surrounded by a puddle of sick, pushing her quirk through all the concrete and drywall and glass and steel she can reach. In reality, it's likely only a minute or two, if that, but time stretches until the building is the only thing she's aware of.

She dry heaves a few more times in between.

"I've got it, Uravity." Izuku's strained voice through the comm breaks into her consciousness. "Holy shit, you did it!"

"We did it," Ochako corrects weakly, scrambling to a cleaner section of rooftop. She wants nothing more than to lay back and stare at the sky, but they're on a time crunch. She can't afford to do that. "I'm concerned we haven't seen the villains yet, though."

"Me too," Deku agrees. "They're waiting for something."

Ochako pushes herself to her feet. This high up, the building sways ominously. Of course it does. Down below, it's supported only by Izuku and his quirk. She hopes Cementoss or another structural hero arrives on the scene soon. Izuku can't hold the building forever. Distantly, she remembers Todoroki's ice structures, but he's not here.

"I'm gonna start getting civilians out," she says. "I don't know how long my quirk will hold."

Already, she feels the tug in her gut she's come to associate with overuse of her quirk. The nausea sits in the back of her throat, constantly threatening to overwhelm her the moment she loses control. It doesn't matter that she's already puked up everything that was in her stomach. Her vision is fuzzy around the edges, like snow on an old television screen.

That's new.

She doesn't like it.

"Good luck," Izuku grits out. "Be careful."

The other heroes are on the way, she can hear their chatter over the comms. Whether or not they'll get here in _time_ , that's another question. She can't wait for backup to start the evacuation. It's up to her.

She takes a step and stumbles. Swearing, she catches herself. She _can't_ let carrying an entire office building slow her down. She _won't_.

After a cautious few steps, she pick up speed as she throws herself down the staircase. She skids to a halt as she reaches the upper level. It's already a madhouse. The staircases are jam-packed with panicking people, and nobody's moving anywhere.

"Shit," she mutters, then raises her voice. "Everyone calm down! Panicking isn't going to help!"

"Uravity?"

"Uravity!"

"We're saved!"

The last comment does nothing to help the dread in Ochako's stomach as she surveys the situation. Normally, she wouldn't hesitate to use her quirk to ferry people out the window from the top floor to the bottom, but her grip on her quirk at the moment is tenuous at best.

Still, she has to try.

"Everyone to the windows," she instructs, pitching her voice to be heard over the commotion. "Okay, everyone take two other people's hands. I'm going to activate my quirk on you one by one, and you're going to step out the window. Don't let go of your partner's hand or else you'll float off! I'm going to get you down to the ground like a barrelful of monkeys."

To her surprise, no one protests. It helps that they've probably seen this maneuver on the news before. A floating chain of people is something one is unlikely to forget.

The knot in her stomach twists even tighter as she removes the gravity from each civilian in turn. She wants to take everyone, but there comes a point where she has to cut off the line. She doesn't want the person at the end of the line to die from hypoxia due to ending up too high in the stratosphere. With a promise to return, she removes her own gravity, steps out the window, and activates her directional jets to gently guide them to the ground.

As she returns gravity to each person in the line, they tug the next person down, and so on. It isn't long before each civilian stands firmly upon the ground. Another successful rescue.

"Now go! Get out of here," she says, "but safely!"

Her last instruction goes unheeded, and she watches helplessly as the people she just saved run away in panic. She doesn't blame them.

Sometime in the midst of her operation, the other heroes arrived. A wave of nausea sends her to her knees, and Miruko helps her back to her feet before bounding onwards.

From the sound of it, the fighting has started. A quick glance tells her the building has been shored up by Kamui Woods. This is good. It means Izuku is free to fight, but that wood won't hold the full weight of the building. It looks like it's barely holding as it is.

She takes a deep breath and attempts to clear her vision. It's worse than it was before, and that's saying something. She pushes through it, activating her quirk on herself and leaping back up to the upper floors. There are more people to rescue.

Unfortunately, it's not just civilians who await her.

A figure in a purple crop-top and leggings ambushes her. Ochako barely ducks as Shield throws her first strike. How did she get up here? Through the roof? Was she here before the explosions went off? Ochako doesn't know, but she doesn't have time to figure it out. She blocks Shield's kick, but is forced a step back from the extra oomph provided by the force field.

"Did you really think it was going to be that easy?" Shield crows. "Uravity, Uravity, Uravity. We've only just started."

"I didn't … think it was going to be easy at all," Ochako replies. Her vision swims. Shit, she really needs to end this, and to end this quickly.

She darts in and grabs Shield's wrist. She activates her quirk, but Shield remains firm on the floor. Shield grabs her in turn and throws her against the floor, cackling.

"Millimeter-thin force field," she gloats. "You didn't actually make contact with me."

Ochako pushes herself to her feet, wobbling slightly as she tries to find her balance. This isn't good. This is very not good. "I need backup on floor … shit, I don't know. One of the upper floors. Shield's got me cornered."

"Backup is on the way, Uravity." Ochako recognizes Nibui's voice over the comm, and despite their rocky footing recently, it still brings her comfort. "Heroes are en route to your position."

Oh. That's right. She has a GPS tracker in her boot for exactly this sort of situation.

She ducks another of Shield's strikes, but Shield flares a force field and hits her anyway. It's too much, and she loses the questionable grip she's held on her nausea. She collapses to the floor and dry heaves.

"Really?" Shield asks, almost angrily. "Number ten hero in all of Japan, Uravity, and _this_ is all you've got for me?"

Ochako opens her mouth to respond, but she's cut off by one of her most favorite sounds in the world.

"Uravity!" Izuku cries. "I'm here!"

She turns to her friend, only to realize too late it's not Izuku. A tall, skinny guy stands beside a woman with swirling red eyes. Before she can wrench her gaze away she's slipping … slipping … slipping …

No.

She can't move.

No!

NO!

"Good work, Shield," Hypnos croons. "And Echo, excellent work as well."

Shield steps back, and the other woman takes her place. Hypnos wears a bright red dress to match her eyes. With her platinum-blonde hair, it makes for an impressive sight. Ochako struggles against her control, but her efforts are futile. Frozen as she is, she can't even look away from those twin red whirlpools.

"Oh, Ochako," Hypnos says, reaching out to caress her cheek with smooth fingertips, "this is nothing personal. I want you to know that." She withdraws her hand, and Ochako realizes she doesn't blink. It's unsettling. "We just want to make the heroes look bad, and you. You, my dear, are the one holding this entire rescue operation together. We can't have that."

She tuts her tongue and leans in close. "So here's what you're going to do."

Ochako feels like a stranger in her own body as she moves back toward the window she came in through. She fights it. Oh, how she fights it, but there's nothing she can do. She suspects pain would bring her back to herself, like it does with Shinsou's quirk, but it's impossible to induce that pain.

She's not strong enough.

She's not strong enough.

She's not _strong_ enough.

She wants to cry as she leaps out the window to the next roof over. Her vision has cleared. The knot in her stomach from holding the building is a distant pain. She's a spectator of her own actions, and oh, God.

A news helicopter circles the building. She waits until the camera is very clearly trained on her, as instructed.

She looks into the camera.

She smiles.

She brings her fingertips together.

"Release."

The words drip like molasses from her lips, and time snaps back into place. The release of her quirk leaves her lightheaded. Distantly, she's aware of the screams and the rumbling and the collapse of the building behind her.

Unconsciousness hits her before she can feel the tears running down her face.

* * *

Eight thousand kilometers away, a hero gets a news alert for a topic he follows. This isn't unusual. There's a video attached to the update. This isn't unusual, either.

He reads the article.

He watches the video.

He cries.

 _That's_ unusual.

* * *

Ochako wakes to the incessant beeping of a heart monitor.

The nurses bustle just as incessantly around her. "You've overused your quirk," they say. "You're lucky to be alive," they say. "It's the greatest disaster since All For One was defeated," they say.

"It's all your fault," they don't say. They don't have to.

She knows.

They keep her overnight for observation. This time, Izuku isn't there to keep her company. "He's in this hospital," they say. "He was badly injured in the building collapse," they say.

"He was one of the lucky ones," they say.

"It's all your fault," they don't say. They don't have to.

She knows.

It's in their eyes, and the way they won't meet hers. It's in the way they cast sidelong glances her way as they pretend to be too busy to look at her. It's a morbid curiosity that can't be satisfied by simply looking, but they'll never ask her outright.

It's the same way Bakugou was treated, once upon a time; like they don't know whether she's a hero or a villain.

She can't blame them. She doesn't know, either.

For the first time in years, she wishes Bakugou were beside her. He'd tell her everyone else could get fucked. That she _was_ a hero, and he'd fight anyone who tried to say otherwise.

Not that she needs him to tell her that. She shouldn't. She knows, even if it's hard to believe right now. It's just nice to hear it spoken.

By him.

She pushes the thought aside. It's been three years. She can't hang onto a past which has no future.

Tsuyu and Kirishima come to spring her from the hospital. She hasn't seen either of them in months, and the sight of their familiar faces brings tears to her eyes. She swallows back thoughts of Bakugou which threaten to reemerge at the sight of Kirishima.

She's emotional, and that's all there is to it.

"Oh, Ochako-chan, ribbit," Tsuyu cries. She hugs her tight, and Kirishima hugs them both, and Ochako loves her friends but she can't breathe can't breathe can't _breathe_ –

They let go.

She's discharged from the hospital with instructions not to use her quirk for another few days and even then only light use for the next few weeks. She wonders how she's going to do hero work without use of her quirk, but nods anyway. The lingering nausea tells her the doctors are right, as much as she doesn't want them to be.

She asks to see Izuku.

He's still unconscious.

"Okay," Tsuyu says as they near the exit. "It's a zoo out there, so keep your head down and don't make eye contact with anyone, ribbit."

"I'll keep the reporters from getting too close," Kirishima adds. "No matter what happens–"

"I know," Ochako says, cutting him off. "Don't respond. I was there for that lecture too, remember?"

"Are you ready, ribbit?"

No, she isn't. But that doesn't matter, does it? She can't hide in this hospital forever, nor does she want to.

"Yeah," she lies. "Let's go."

By the time they reach the car, she can no longer see from all the flashbulbs that go off in her face. She can no longer hear from all the reporters' yelling. She's distantly aware of Tsuyu and Kirishima talking around her, but her ears ring and she processes only echoes of words.

 _Uravity, is it true you dropped that building on purpose?_

 _Uravity, rumors say you've been working in league with the villains!_

 _Uravity, what do you have to say to the fact you're responsible for the largest civilian casualty since All For One's heyday?_

Nothing. She has nothing to say.

* * *

With Izuku laid up in the hospital, the responsibility of managing their agency falls solely on her hands. She spends a couple days at Tsuyu's place while she gets over the worst of her illness, but then it's back to work as usual. Well, not quite as usual. Izuku isn't there. She can't lift any more with her quirk than she could when she first entered UA. The heroes and their sidekicks shoot her the same glances the nurses at the hospital did.

It's fine.

It's all fine.

She'll get through this.

Ochako does her best to tune out the news, but still it seeps into her consciousness. They don't have an official death toll yet, but the pundits are estimating it's somewhere in the high hundreds. It makes her sick to her stomach. On top of the lingering traces of quirk-induced nausea, she ends up losing her lunch twice in the week following her return to the office.

If anyone notices, they pretend they don't.

Relegated to paperwork and administrative duties as she is, she avoids having to go back out into the field. It's a small blessing. She's not sure if she's ready to face the world after what happened. She's heard whispers. People think she should be in jail. People believe she needs to go on trial for what she did.

Part of her doesn't disagree. Why does she, as a hero, get a free pass for murdering hundreds of civilians, when that same act would brand anyone else a villain?

These thoughts plague her.

One day, about a week after she returns to the office, she walks in to find a vase of her favorite flowers left on her desk. There's no note, no nothing. There's not even a florist's name – whoever sent them to her _really_ doesn't want to be found. Still, she thanks the office as a whole. They've seen firsthand just how hard the last week has been on her.

Every night, she stops by the hospital to visit Izuku before heading home to an empty apartment. The oppressive silence weighs on her. Gone is the laughter that permeates the space when she and Izuku are both slap-happy and exhausted after a long day of work. Gone are the smells of Izuku's cooking. She's gotten better at cooking over the years, but she's been subsisting on takeout since the incident.

"It'll be okay," she tells herself as she digs into her corner store sushi. "He's getting better. He'll be home soon."

Tsuyu was loathe to leave her alone in the apartment, but both Tsuyu and Kirishima live too far from the agency to make staying with either of them feasible. She's doing all right, though. She's keeping herself together. She's eating.

It's not like when _he_ left.

She shakes her head and bites into a sushi. He's been on her mind recently for reasons she can't explain, and she hates it.

"He's well," Todoroki says when she asks after him. "He's doing really well."

The only reason she doesn't press for more information is because she knows Todoroki won't give it to her.

Ochako finishes her paltry meal and throws out the trash. Her gaze drifts toward the television. She shouldn't check the news. She _shouldn't_ , but … she needs to know.

She turns it on.

She regrets it.

Lying awake in bed that night, the news report cycles through her thoughts repeatedly. The footage of her, staring straight into the camera with dead eyes as she lets go of the building behind her, is haunting. She looks positively villainous. No wonder people have been looking at her like they're trying to figure her out. Like she could snap at any moment.

Everyone knows she was under Hypnos's control, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't change the fact she did what she did.

" _As of this afternoon, we've received the final casualty count from the incident with Uravity. Five hundred and three dead, including six heroes, and seven hundred eighteen critically injured. Cleanup efforts are ongoing."_

" _The question we have to ask ourselves is, can we trust Uravity to keep us safe? She singlehandedly killed five hundred people, and it wasn't an accident. That was a very deliberate move on her part. Has she been playing the long con?"_

" _Uravity is a stain on UA's reputation."_

" _It's quite a feat to be able to claim the record for both the largest rescue and the largest massacre, and yet Uravity has done it."_

For every pundit saying negative things about her, there are three others defending her, but it doesn't matter. It's going to take some time and effort to move past this and salvage her career.

She cries herself to sleep.

* * *

 **\- 3 YEARS, 2 MONTHS -  
OCTOBER**

Ochako, once recovered from the overuse of her quirk, comes back stronger than ever. In the field, she's relentless. She refuses to let even one other person die under her watch. Izuku worries, but Izuku always worries. She knows he understands. After all, she has something to prove.

If she saves five hundred and three people, will that atone for the five hundred and three deaths she caused?

No, it won't. But it's a good start.

Her hero ranking takes a nosedive in the fallout from the incident. Once a Top Ten hero, she no longer ranks within even the top one hundred, but two months isn't a long time. She'll get back up there. She knows she will.

Unfortunately, returning to the hero circuit also means returning to interviews and press conferences and everything she never really enjoyed, but never used to mind. Now, they're the bane of her existence.

Deep in thought, Ochako kicks idly at a loose pebble as she walks home late one afternoon. It skitters off into the road, whereupon it's immediately run over by a car. In that moment, she feels an odd kinship with the abused pebble. She hasn't been able to catch a break lately, either.

"Mom! Mom, look! It's Uravity!"

Ochako looks up from the sidewalk to see a young girl tugging at her mother's hand, pointing her way. She smiles and waves, and the girl gasps.

"Mom! Uravity waved to me!"

Ochako's face falls as the girl's mother glares over her daughter's head. "That's nice," she says. "Come along, dear."

Ochako buries her hands in the pockets of her jacket as she stalks away. The crisp October air nips at her nose. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes. Anger surges within her, and she launches herself into a jog up the stairs to the apartment. Her feet hit the steps hard, but it's not enough.

It's not enough.

She manages to refrain from slamming the front door open, but the same can't be said about closed. Despite her anger, she winces. Izuku steps out of the kitchen to investigate, his face creased in concern.

"Ochako?" He speaks her name tentatively. "Are you okay?"

Ochako huffs as she removes her shoes. "Fine," she says. "I'm just fine."

"You don't sound fine," Izuku says. He pauses. "You had that interview today. Did it not go well?"

She clenches her fists. She loves Izuku, she really does, but he's never known when to drop a subject. It's gotten him hurt before. He still carries the scars from his fight with Todoroki in their first year at UA, and they're not the only scars his tenacity has earned him.

Still, there's something to be said for that tenacity. She never could lie to him.

"It went just as well as every other interview I've done in the past two months has gone," she spits, crossing the apartment to throw herself down on the couch. "It's like they're _determined_ to ruin my career!"

The incident with Hypnos is still all that any of the media pundits can focus on when it comes to her. It doesn't matter if they're sympathetic to her or not. Whether they intended to touch on it or not, the topic always wraps back around to the fact she killed over five hundred people and injured seven hundred more.

The more the media brings it up, the more people are reminded. The more people are reminded, the more it hurts her reputation. Despite her efforts in the field and in the media, she doesn't feel like she's getting anywhere. She's trying to climb out of a pit of sand, and she keeps sliding back in.

She remembers the girl's excitement.

She remembers the mother's protective glare.

She's tired of it.

She's tired of being treated like a villain by people she doesn't know. She's tired of being treated like she's fragile by people she _does_ know.

She loves Izuku, but he most definitely falls into the second category. She appreciates that he's been here for her, but this isn't going to break her. _He_ isn't going break her. He should see that. He's seen her break before.

"You know these things take time," Izuku says, following her into the living room. "There was one hero–"

Ochako tunes him out as he babbles off on a tangent about some old hero who went through a similar scandal. The anger, reduced to a simmer in the face of her exhaustion, begins to bubble once more. The more she tries to suppress it, the more it threatens to boil over, until at last the pressure gets to be too much.

"I jus'– I can't _do_ it anymore!" Izuku falls silent at her outburst. Her accent slips. She can't meet his eyes as she leaps from the couch, but she feels him watching her as she paces the room. "I give, an' give, an' give, and I'm tryin'! I'm tryin' so hard, but they won' let it go! They're not even givin' me a _chance_ to move on from it, the way they keep bringin' it up!"

She's still coming to terms with what she did. She imagines she'll still be coming to terms with it for a very long time. Still, she knows dwelling on it won't help. She wants to move on. She wants to put it behind her. But they won't _let_ her.

 _From Hero to Zero,_ a memorable headline once read, _The Rise and Fall of Japan's Sweetheart._

"Izuku," she says, turning to him. "I can't. I can't do it. I can't keep doin' this."

Izuku smiles sadly. "Then don't."

"What?"

"I said, _then don't_. Don't do it anymore." He crosses the room to sit on the couch. Ochako follows his lead and sits beside him.

"What– What do ya mean? I'm a hero, I can't jus' … _not_."

He reaches out and takes one of her hands. "Ochako, hero work is important, but you're _more_ important. If it's not a healthy space for you to be in right now, then take a break. You don't owe anyone anything. It doesn't take much to keep a hero license active; you could come back at any time."

Ochako sits silently, stunned. Take a break? Hero work is all she's known since she was fifteen. At twenty-two, it's all she's known for the better part of a decade. Who would she be if she wasn't Uravity? She never thought she'd find out.

"But," she protests weakly, "the agency–"

"Would run just fine without you, and it would still be there if and when you returned."

"But I can't– I can't jus' _give up_ ," she said. Heroes don' give up. _Plus Ultra_ , right?"

"Who said anything about giving up?" Izuku asks. He pauses for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. "When I broke my arms too much in our first year at UA, before I learned how to control One for All, I had to stop using my arms and work on something else for a while. That doesn't mean I gave up on using my quirk, or on using my arms, but I had to listen to myself and what I needed."

Izuku rarely talks about the trouble he had controlling his quirk in their first year. She knows about One for All now, but she also knows how hard the secrecy had been drilled into him from the beginning. She's surprised he's mentioned it now.

"So you're saying … hero work is my arms, and I've gotta stop using those and start using my legs for a while before I can use my arms again."

Izuku smiles. "Only if you think you need to," he says.

Ochako bites her lip. "I dunno," she says. "I guess … I guess I'll think about it. Maybe I'll go home for a little bit, talk to my parents. Figure out what I should do."

"If you don't want to take a break, then don't. I just want you to do what's best for you," Izuku says.

Yeah. She wants to do what's best for her, too. She just doesn't know what that is.

* * *

 **\- 4 YEARS, 6 MONTHS -**  
JANUARY

It takes time, but she figures it out. The decision to step back from her career as a pro hero is the hardest decision she's ever made in her life. She regrets it, at first. Oh, how she regrets it. Could she have fixed things if she'd given it a little more time? A little more effort? Maybe she gave up too early. She misses the rush, the thrill, the knowledge her actions have made a difference.

She watches the news. Remembers when it used to be _her_ out there, fighting the good fight. She nurses Izuku back to health when he ultimately stumbles through the door of their apartment bruised and broken.

Hero work is a part of her. She longs for it. She's incomplete without it.

Uravity fades from the public eye. Despite her original misgivings, Ochako can't deny that the distance gives her a sense of levity she hasn't felt since before she broke up with Nibui. She can breathe again, and isn't that what's most important?

She enrolls in a physics program at a local university. She can't stand the thought of doing _nothing_ , and 'Uravity Takes a Break From Hero Work to Attend College' is a much better headline than 'Uravity Quits Hero Work in the Fallout Of Disaster.' The stars have always fascinated her, and she finds herself taking on an astronomy minor as well. Even in her absence from hero work, she works to refine her quirk.

One day, she'll return to her pro hero career. She made that promise to herself when she decided to step away.

In the chaos that is her life, she forgets what year it is. She forgets how long it's been. She's so wrapped up in the domesticity of college life and living with Izuku that a year passes before she realizes. Suddenly it's June, and Izuku is picking Todoroki up from the airport.

Everything changes.

Ochako knows her friendship with Izuku is unbreakable, but with Todoroki back, she knows she'll never again come first. This apartment has been her home for the last four years, but it's Todoroki's apartment first and foremost. The boys insist she's not unwelcome; after all, they have a guest bedroom for a reason. Todoroki himself tells her she's welcome to stay.

So she stays. The apartment is even cheaper with three people, and it's close to her college. The three of them settle into a new rhythm, but it's a rhythm Ochako knows isn't sustainable. Living with a couple, especially a couple who have been separated for four years, is hard.

She makes herself scarce. She gets breakfast with Tsuyu and Momo. She puts in long hours studying at the university's library. She spends time with Izuku and Shouto, as he requests her to call him, but she often feels like she's intruding. She and Izuku are still as intimately close as they always have been, but the moments they have together are few and far between.

It's ridiculous, but Ochako misses her friend. She misses the man she considers family. He's a brother she never had.

She knows she'll have to move out eventually, but she puts it off.

Part of her hopes–

After all these years, she hopes–

She hopes–

But she doesn't hear from him. She knows he's back in the country. He shows up on the news, all black and orange and green with sharp edges and an even sharper tongue. It's been four years. She's dated other people.

Her aching heart skips a beat when she meets his eyes through the TV screen.

But she doesn't hear from him. She hasn't changed her number, but he doesn't text her. She knows Izuku or Shouto would tell her if he asked either of them for her number, but all she gets from them are increasingly irritating _looks_ whenever he comes up in conversation.

It's fine.

It's all fine.

She's heard rumors that he's staying with Kirishima until he finds his own place and gets settled. She can't count the number of times she's pulled up her SMS history with Kirishima, even had a text half-written, before deleting everything and closing out of the window.

If he wants to see her, he'll reach out.

Of course, her conscious reminds her, if she wants to see him, she should reach out.

But she doesn't. What would she say? What _could_ she say?

Summer turns to fall. She sees him once, in person, as she walks home from class one afternoon. He's chasing some villain, and she's in civvies. She's always in civvies, these days. There's nothing to distinguish her from the crowd around her. She shouldn't be surprised he doesn't see her. She shouldn't be disappointed.

Fall turns to winter. Still, she doesn't hear anything.

She lets it go.

Ochako shivers as she walks home from touring her second apartment complex, the sharp January air cutting straight through her peacoat. She forgot her gloves that morning, and her fingers are frozen. She can't wait to get back to the apartment and make herself a mug of hot chocolate. Izuku and Shouto have a date planned for tonight, so it'll just be her, her hot chocolate, a blanket, and a movie. She hasn't decided which movie yet, but she has some time to figure it out.

By the time she reaches the front door, the sun is beginning to set. Her toes are frozen in her boots. Maybe a hot shower wouldn't go amiss, either.

Caught up in her thoughts as she is, she doesn't notice the lights are on inside until she opens the door. Huh. That's odd. There shouldn't be anyone home. Is something wrong? Are either of them hurt? Ochako begins to panic as she toes off her boots.

"I'm home!" she calls. "Izuku? Shouto? Are you guys okay?"

Silence greets her. That's unusual– Izuku is usually quick to return her greeting if he's home. If he isn't home and Shouto is, then Shouto greets her. The lack of response sets her on edge, and a lump lodges itself in her throat as she hangs her coat.

"Izuku?" she calls again. "Shouto? Guys, this isn't funny!"

It wouldn't be the first time they've pulled a prank on her, but none of their pranks have ever made her _uncomfortable_ like this. Shit. Has someone broken in? She doesn't hear anyone, but she raises her hands in preparation for an attack.

She doesn't know what the burglar thinks he's going to find. For an apartment belonging to two pro-heroes and lodging a third former pro-hero, it's remarkably like your average twenty-three-year-old's apartment. They don't own anything expensive, save for Shouto's fancy coffeemaker.

With a deep breath, she pads forward silently. A rustle in the living room gives her pause for half a second. She rushes forward to ambush the intruder–

A man on the couch.

A hauntingly familiar blond-haired man on the couch.

–and stops in her tracks.

"Oh."

The word falls from her lips before she can process what's happening. He's. _He's_ here. He's here? Why is he here? How did he get in? What does he want? Why is he here?

"Um," he says. "Hi."

She barely hears him past the questions swirling in her mind. Her eyes drink him in. She's seen him on the news, of course, but the television could never capture everything that makes Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Katsuki.

"Hi," she squeaks. "I– uh–"

It's too much.

 _He's_ too much.

She turns on her heel. Hot chocolate. She'd wanted hot chocolate. She'll make hot chocolate. She needs something to occupy her hands, to busy her thoughts so she doesn't begin to spiral the way she feels herself slipping. Yanking the cabinet door open, she nearly misses his next words.

"Uraraka–" the syllables of her name are shrapnel against her skin– "I'm sorry. This was– this was a bad idea. I'll, um. I'll go."

Panic wells in her throat. Tears prick her eyes. This is too much, too soon. She doesn't know what he wants. She doesn't know what _she_ wants. She hadn't let herself think about it before now, and she's woefully unprepared.

She leans around the kitchen wall and glares at him. "Don't you _dare,_ " she says. She doesn't know what she wants, but she knows if she lets him walk out that door, she'll never get another chance to figure it out. "Bakugou Katsuki, I swear, if you walk out that door–"

She doesn't finish the sentence. The sentence doesn't _have_ an end.

Bakugou pauses. His eyes flick up to meet her gaze squarely with a searching gaze of his own. What he's searching for, she doesn't know. Whatever it is, though, he seems to find it. With a quirk of his lips, he raises his hands in a universal gesture of surrender and takes a pointed step back.

"You haven't changed much," he quips. _Quips_.

Ochako scoffs as she pulls a mug down from the cabinet. "I've changed plenty," she says, raising her voice for his sake. "Four years, remember?" She hesitates, then grabs a second mug. She may be reeling, but she won't be rude.

"I remember," Bakugou says, and _god,_ she missed his voice. "I was there. Or rather, I wasn't. I mean– _fuck._ "

Ochako hides her smile in the cabinet where she and Izuku keep the hot cocoa powder. "I know what you mean," she says. "It, um–" _It was hard_ , she wants to say, but is she ready to open that can of worms?

"It, what?"

Ochako looks up to see him standing in the entryway of the kitchen, casual as anything. She gapes as she tries to find the right words with which to brush him off. Is he taller? He feels taller. Or maybe he's just … broader? Does that make sense?

"It, nothing," she says, busying herself with warming the milk. "It's nothing."

"Bullshit."

She sighs. He always could see right through her, couldn't he? Why, of all the things that have changed, couldn't that be one of them?

Considering her words, she speaks carefully and clearly. "It's good to see you again." It's an admission, but as far as admissions go, it's fairly tame. Turning the stove off, she continues, "After six months, I was starting to wonder if you were actually going out of your way to _avoid_ me."

Forced levity belies real hurt, and she turns to catch him watching her intently.

He meets her gaze head-on. "You didn't exactly reach out, either."

Ochako searches those red, red eyes of his and finds hurt within them as well. Maybe … maybe she should have texted him. She wasn't sure if he still had the same number, but she could have texted Kirishima. She has no excuse for her silence, just as he had no excuse for his.

She smiles at him quickly before looking away. "No," she says. "I didn't. And I'm not on active hero duty right now, so it's not like we would've run into each other at work."

Who is she kidding? It wouldn't have mattered if she'd known his number. She didn't contact him because she was both afraid he'd moved on and afraid he hadn't. It's been four years– she thought she'd moved on. She _had_ moved on. But his presence, both in Japan but even more so _here_ , in her kitchen, threatens her resolve.

He still smells like burnt sugar.

"I, um. I heard about that," Bakugou says after several long moments.

Her hand stills for a moment in the middle of whisking in the cocoa. She waits for him to continue. She waits for the empty platitudes – the "It happens," the "I'm sorry," the "Are you okay?" – but they don't come. It's a first, even after all this time.

A wave of affection for this man crashes over her, bringing tears to her eyes. She blinks them back and sniffs surreptitiously. She forgot just how foreign the concept of 'pity' was to Bakugou, and how refreshing she found it. Finds it.

"Fuck," Bakugou curses behind her. "Should I not have said that? Goddammit."

She can't help it. She laughs.

She _laughs._

"No," she says once she's recovered, turning to pour the hot chocolate into the mugs she set out. "No, it's fine. It's–" How can words express how fine it is? She gives up and grins up at him. "It's fine."

Bakugou gazes back at her with a look she thought she'd long since lost to time. It's the look that stared up at her from an exercise bench on a cold winter's night. It's the look he gave her on a warm summer's evening, bathed in a watercolor sunset.

Her heart stops.

It's a look that makes her weak in the knees, and she wants nothing more than to give into it.

But she can't.

Right?

It's been four years. Bakugou isn't the same person. His jaw is sharper, his explosive anger tempered, and don't think she hasn't noticed the hearing aids tucked into the curves of his ears. Years' worth of close-range explosions must have finally taken their toll, just like Aizawa always said they would.

She isn't the same person, either. Her face is thinner than it once was, her hair cropped shorter than it's ever been. She has scars where there was once smooth skin, and she's no longer the pro hero she always wanted to be. Instead, she's studying physics at a local college.

They aren't the same people. He isn't the man she once loved. She isn't the woman he once loved.

But she still loves the man who lives in her memory, and that's what makes this so hard.

Ochako shakes her head and smiles ruefully. "I assume you still like your hot chocolate spicy?" Pushing her thoughts aside, she reaches for the spice cabinet and grabs the chili powder before Bakugou can answer.

"What kinda fuckin' question is that?"

She shrugs. "Just figured I'd ask." With practiced hands, she mixes the chili powder into the mugs of hot chocolate, giving Bakugou twice as much as she gives herself.

"Half-weenie, half-spicy," Bakugou murmurs absently. Ochako wonders if he meant to say it aloud. The observation is almost intimate in its delivery, and heat rises in her cheeks. She doesn't respond with words, handing him his mug. He takes it, but doesn't move.

"We can move back to the living room," she prompts. "It's, uh, more comfortable in there."

"Um. Right."

Ochako follows Bakugou back into the living room, and the tentative easiness that fell around them in the kitchen fades back into the nerve-racking tension of when she first saw him. He takes a seat on one end of the couch, and she claims a space on the other end, drawing her feet up beneath her.

It's almost funny. The first time they did this, it was Bakugou who sat as far away from her as possible.

The first time they did this, she was fearless about forcing him to talk.

When had things gotten so twisted?

She doesn't like it. She doesn't like it one bit.

There's no point in exchanging pleasantries or pretending this is nothing more than one friend visiting another. There's too much history. Too much pain. Too much love. Too much loss. She takes a deep breath and, with a sigh, asks The Question:

"Why are you here, Bakugou?"

Silence falls over the apartment, broken only by the electric humming of the overhead lights. There's an electricity between the two of them as well, like the charge of the world before a thunderstorm. Ochako wonders if Bakugou can feel it. She watches with bated breath as Bakugou bites his lip and stares down at his mug as if it's the most interesting thing in the room. She can't stand the static tension, but she knows better than to push him on things like these. He'll answer in his own time.

She doesn't know what she wants the answer to be. She doesn't know what she expects. She doesn't know if she _can_ expect anything, and that's … that's okay. She doesn't know how she feels. She can't expect him to know how he–

"Because I love you."

–feels.

What?

"What was that?"

"I love you."

That's … what she thought he said.

"You didn't let me say it that night, but I– I wanted to." He looks her way. She should say something, reassure him somehow, but she doesn't. She can't.

" _Fuck,_ Ochako!" He jumps to his feet in an explosion of motion so _Bakugou_ it makes her heart hurt, and her _name_ … oh, it's never sounded so bittersweet. "What do you want me to say? I tried moving on. I _tried_ , but I couldn't get you out of my head! Why the fuck did we break up? We didn't have a fight, we weren't having problems, we just fuckin' … gave up. We gave up! And I've spent years wishing we hadn't."

Her gears start grinding again, and his implicit accusation is one she can't take sitting down. She sets her half-empty mug on the coffee table and stands despite the weakness in her knees.

"That's _exactly_ why we broke up, Katsuki!" she snaps. "We weren't having problems! We weren't fighting! But I know you and you know me, and we wouldn't have survived a long-distance relationship." Her volume rises with every word, but she doesn't care. "Look me in the eye and tell me we wouldn't have fought about me moving in with Izuku! Tell me you wouldn't have gotten upset about us starting an agency together! Tell me you wouldn't have cared about the rumors and the photos! Tell me we would have made it through all that okay!"

His silence is answer enough.

"That's what I thought."

 _That_ evokes a reaction. "Oh, so that's it, is it?" Katsuki snarls, crossing his arms. "It all would've been _my_ fault! Do you really think that fucking little of me, Ochako?"

"Of course not!" Ochako throws her hands up in exasperation. "Stop putting words in my mouth! When did I say that it would've been your fault? It's not like I would've done much better!"

Katsuki blinks. "What?"

Ochako sighs and runs a hand through her hair before crossing her arms tight against her body. "I wouldn't have done much better," she repeats, looking everywhere but at the man standing before her. "You were in America. In California. In college, following All Might's footsteps, surrounded by American college girls and heroes and everything you ever wanted and … I would've been afraid you'd forget me, even if you didn't mean to. I'm not special, Katsuki. I'm a poor country girl from rural Japan. I wasn't going to go to college. If I tried to compete, I would've felt like I was fighting a losing battle and that … that wouldn't have been good for either of us."

Her words ring in the silence of the apartment. Several moments pass, and she shifts uneasily beneath Katsuki's gaze. He lifts an eyebrow. "Are you done?"

Right. Of course. That's what she gets for baring her soul to this man. He never much was one for sentiment, although–

" _Because I love you."_

–his words suggest otherwise.

"Yeah." She sighs. "Yeah. I'm done." Done with her tirade, done with this conversation, done hoping that maybe– just maybe–

Oh, who is she kidding? She still doesn't know what she's hoping for.

Katsuki uncrosses his arms and steps forward. Before she can register what's happening, he's standing just an arm's length away from her. His burnt-sugar sweetness invades her senses, and her lungs betray her. Her breath catches. She closes her eyes against the prickling threat of tears, but it does nothing to dull her awareness of him before her.

"Not everything," he says in nearly a whisper. She lets his voice wash over her. "I thought it was everything, when All Might first offered me the spot, but then _you_ happened and by the time I realized … it was too fuckin' late."

"When?" Ochako can't open her eyes. If she does, she knows the tears will come immediately thereafter. "When did you realize?"

"That last night," he croaks. His breath ghosts past her skin. "On the balcony. I didn't– I didn't want to let go."

Ochako shakes her head. "I didn't want to let go either," she whispers. The confession is a drop in a puddle, rippling outwards. "But I had to."

"Ochako." The syllables of her first name send a thrill down her spine, but she can't. She's about to cry as it is. She jumps when she feels hot pressure on her upper arms. His hands, surely. It's all she can do not to melt right then and there at the touch. "Ochako, fuck. Please look at me."

The _please_ rocks her to the core. With a shaky breath, she opens her eyes and hazards a glance up at his face. Sanguine eyes return her gaze with an intensity unique to the man they belong to. She swallows hard against the butterflies that leap into her throat.

His hands trail down her arms, leaving tracks in their wake even through the long sleeve shirt she wears. She shivers beneath the sensation and breaks eye contact, choosing instead to stare into his chest.

"You _are_ special, Ochako," Katsuki says, and she remembers a night. An ambush. A fight. A confession. There's a gentle tug at her elbows, and in her distraction she instinctively uncrosses her arms. His palms ghost down her forearms, and then he's taking her hands in his.

"K– Katsuki?"

"Say the word and I'll go. Tell me you don't feel the same way and we can be friends and I'll never fuckin' bother you about it again. But if you do, I– I want a second chance."

There's desperation in his voice, and Ochako can no longer keep the tears at bay. Without letting go of his hands, she steps closer and rests her forehead against his chest.

"Goddammit," he says over her head. "Ochako, I'm sorry."

She shakes her head, still pressed into his chest. "Don't be," she says, her voice thick.

"I didn't catch that. My ears are fucked, remember?"

Right.

She does remember.

With a heavy sigh, she steps back and pulls her hands from Katsuki's so she can wipe the tears from her face. She sits back on the couch, and after a moment's hesitation, Katsuki follows her lead.

There's less space between them now than there was when they first sat down.

She clasps her hands together and rests her elbows on her knees. Long moments pass as she struggles to find the words she wants to say. She eventually settles on, "I found the note you left me. I pinned it to my vanity." She glances up at him. "It's still there."

She rips her gaze away from his awestruck face. If she's going to get through this, she needs to not look at him. "I wore your jacket around the apartment for weeks after you left. I stopped when I moved in with Izuku because I couldn't burden him with my problems when he had his own, what with Todoroki being gone. But I still wore it occasionally, especially when I was feeling down." She laughs. "I realized things never could've worked out with Foresight when the first thing I did after we broke up was fish out your jacket and note and stand out on the balcony."

Steeling herself, she finds her next words. "I don't know if I still love you," she says truthfully. "I don't know if I still love you, but I _did_ love you, and I– I don't want to let go again."

She looks up to see tears in his eyes. Through her own, she smiles. "I want to know if I can love you again."

Ochako can't remember the last time she saw Katsuki cry. Did he cry that night on the balcony? She doesn't know. It doesn't matter. It doesn't change the fact he's crying now.

"Are you–?" His voice breaks. He swallows and tries again. "Really?"

She nods, tears once again streaming down her face. "Really," she says. "But slowly. I think we both– we both need some time."

Katsuki stares back at her like she's hung the moon. "Yeah," he croaks. He reaches for her then, as if already growing impatient, but snatches his hands back. "Yeah, okay. But please, let me at least hug you. S _hit_ , Ochako."

She laughs, but the laughter catches wetly in her throat. "You're gonna have to get closer than _that_."

His face darkens. With that, she knows he still has some of the same buttons he had four years ago, and she's still able to push them. He scoots down the couch and is next to her in less than a heartbeat. His strong arms encircle her and draw her close and – despite how sharp and rough Katsuki is as a person – the hug is so soft and tender and _sweet_ and it's almost like he's afraid of hurting her.

She sighs into his warmth. He doesn't have to be afraid of hurting her.

He still feels like home.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

 _Wow. That's it for the main part of the fic so I'm gonna mark it as complete, but I'll be posting some companion pieces (including the last scene from Katsuki's POV) under this title so that I can keep them all together._

 _Thank you so much for your support! This has been a wild ride for sure._

 _I'm also now on Twitter as_ karmahope2713 _^.^_


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